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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


// 


^>. 


&^ 


A^^ 

*.  v^^^ 


fe 


i^ 


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1.25 


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1.4 


140 


1 2.0 

1.6 


Hiotographic 

.Sciences 

CorporaJiQn 


33  WBT  MAIN  STRUT 

WIUTIR.N.Y.  USM 

(7U)«73-4S03 


" 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historicai  iVIicroreproductiont  /  institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  hiatoriques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  mey  eiter  any  of  the  images  in' the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


D 
D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I     I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagAe 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurte  et/ou  peliiculAe 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gtographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I     I   Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


D 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
ReliA  avec  d'autres  documents 


Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serrAe  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intArieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajouties 
lors  d'une  restauration  appareissent  dans  le  texte, 
male,  lorsque  cela  Atait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  At*  filmtes. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplAmentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm*  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  *t*  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  methods  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqute  ci-dessous. 


D 
D 
D 
0 
D 
0 
D 
D 
D 
D 


Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagtes 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaurtes  et/ou  pellicultes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  dAcolortes,  tachetAes  ou  piquAes 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  dAtachAes 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies/ 
QualitA  InAgaie  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementarv  •nateriai/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplAmentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seuie  Mition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  ref limed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcles  par  un  feuiilet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  M  fiimAes  i  nouveau  de  fafon  k 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  fllmi  au  taux  de  reduction  indiquA  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


n 


v/ 


12X 


16X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  h«r«  ha*  b*«n  raproduced  thanks 
to  the  ganerosity  of: 

D.B.WtldonUbrary 
UnivMriity  of  WMtarn  Ontario 


L'axamplaira  filmA  fut  raproduit  grica  A  la 
gAnArositt  da: 

D.B.W«ldonUbrary 
Univanity  of  Western  Ontario 


Tha  imagas  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality 
posslbia  considaring  tha  condition  and  lagibillty 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  spacificatlons. 


Las  imagas  suivantas  ont  At4  raproduitas  avac  la 
plus  grand  soin,  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattatA  da  l'axamplaira  film*,  at  an 
conformit6  avac  las  conditions  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 


Original  copias  In  printad  papar  covars  ara  filmad 
beginning  with  tha  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  ara  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  Illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printad 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  origlnaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimte  sont  filmts  en  commen^ant 
par  la  premier  plat  at  an  terminant  soit  par  la 
darnlAre  page  qui  jomporte  une  emprelnte 
d'impression  ou  d'iilustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous  las  autres  exemplaires 
originsux  sont  f  llmfo  en  commengant  per  la 
premlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  emprelnte 
d'impression  ou  d'iilustration  at  en  terminant  par 
la  darnlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
emprelnte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  ^^>  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  y  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaltra  sur  la 
derniire  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbols  -^  signifle  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  signifle  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmte  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diffArents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grsnd  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich*.  11  est  filmA  A  partir 
de  I'angle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite. 
et  de  haut  9n  bas.  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nAcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrant  la  mAthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

RDL 


University  of  Western  Ontario 
LIBRARY 

LONDON       .       CANADA 

Class     TRaa.a^ 


,•4 


Hnittrraitg  of  MtBUtn 

3(1;^  (Srarr  Slarkburn 

iKpmartal  (Unlltttxan 

of 


<A6.f.Sl 


^Vo.a.ui^ftlLiu^vo  ,qv 


IN  A  STEAMER  CHAIR 


i 


LIBRARIES 
THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  WESTERN  ONTARIO 


LONDON  CANADA 


u^m 


IN  A 


Steamer  Chair 


AND 


Other  Ship-Board  Stories 


BY 


ROBERT  BARR 

Author  of  "Tekla."  "  In  the  Midst  of  Alarms."  "  A  VV 
Intervenes,"  "  The  Mutable  Many,"  etc.,  etc. 


Oman 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  i8q2,  by 
CASSELL  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

I  M  G  SL  5    X 
All  rights  reserved. 


A  PRELIMINARY  WORD. 

As  the  incidents  related  herein  look  place  during  voyages  between 
America  and  England,  I  dedicate  this  book  to  the 

WITENAGEMOTE   CLUB  OF  DETROIT 

AND  THE 

VAGABOND  CLUB  OF  LONDON. 

Z  ^''l^^T  *^^*  u  ^°^°"''  ''^'''^^  '"^  "^''^  *^"'"ff  ^  previously  told 
tale  the  fifty  members  of  each  club  will  rise  as  one  man  and  testify 
that  hey  were  called  upon  to  endure  the  story  in  question  from  my 
own  hps  prior  to  the  alleged  original  appearance  of  the  same. 

R.  B. 


.■:^ 


CONTENTS. 


PACK 

In  a  Steamer  Chair, i 

Mrs.  Tremain, i2~ 

Share  and  Shark  Alike, 153 

An  International  Row,           ......  161 

A  Ladies'  Man, i^i 

A  Story  for  the  Reformation  of  Pokkr  Players,  193 

The  Man  Who  was  not  on  tuk  Passenger  List,        .        .  aog 

The  Terrible  Experience  of  Plodkins,          .  219 

A  Case  of  Fever, 229 

How  the  Captain  Got  His  Steamer  Out,       ...  237 

My  Stowaway 247 

The  Purser's  Story, •        .  259 

Miss  McMillan,           269 


IN  A  STEAMER  CHAIR. 


THE  FIRST  DAY. 

Mr.  George  Morris  stood  with  his  arms  folded 

on  the  bulwarks  of  the  steamship  City  of  Buffalo, 

and  gazed  down  into  the  water.     All  around  him 

was  the  bustle  and  hurry  of  passengers  embarking, 

with  friends  bidding  good-by.     Among  the  throng, 

here  and  there,  the  hardworking  men  of  the  steamer 

were  getting  things  in  order  for  the  coming  voyage. 

Trunks  were  piled  up  in  great  heaps  ready  to  be 

lowered  into  the  hold ;  portmanteaus,  satchels,  and 

handbags,  with  tags  tied  to  them,  were  placed  in  a 

row  waiting  to  be  claimed  by  the  passengers,  or  taken 

down  into  the  staterooms.     To  all  this  bustle  and 

confusion  George  Morris  paid   no   heed.     He  was 

thinking  deeply,  and  his  thoughts  did  not  seem  to  be 

very  pleasant.     There  was  nobody  to  see  him  ofif,  and 

he  had  evidently  very  little  interest  in  either  those 

who  were  going  or  those  who  were  staying  behind. 


2  IN  A  STEAMER  CHAIR. 

Other  passengers  who  had  no  friends  to  bid  them 
farewell  appeared  to  take  a  lively  interest  in  watch- 
ing the  hurry  and  scurry,  and  in  picking  out  the 
voyagers  from  those  who  came  merely  to  say 
good-by. 

At  last  the  rapid  ringing  of  a  bell  warned  all 
lingerers  that  the  time  for  the  final  parting  had 
come.  There  were  final  handshakings,  many  em- 
braces, and  not  a  few  tears,  while  men  in  uniform 
with  stentorian  voices  cried,  "All  ashore."  The 
second  clanging  of  the  bell,  and  the  preparations  for 
pulling  up  the  gang  planks,  hurried  the  laggards  to 
the  pier.  After  the  third  ringing  the  gang  plank 
was  hauled  away,  the  inevitable  last  man  sprang  to 
the  wharf,  the  equally  inevitable  last  passenger, 
who  had  just  dashed  up  in  a  cab,  flung  his  valises 
to  the  steward,  was  helped  on  board  the  ship,  and 
then  began  the  low,  pulsating  stroke,  like  the  beat- 
ing of  a  heart,  that  would  not  cease  until  the  vessel 
had  sighted  land  on  the  other  side.  George  Mor- 
ris's eyes  were  fixed  on  the  water,  yet  apparently 
he  was  not  looking  at  it,  for  when  it  began  to  spin 
away  from  the  sides  of  the  ship  he  took  no  notice, 
but  still  gazed  at  the  mass  of  seething  foam  that 
the  steamer  threw  off  from  her  as  she  moved 
through  the  bay.  It  was  evident  that  the  sights  of 
New  York  harbor  were  very  familiar  to  the  young 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


man,  for  he  paid  no  attention  to  them,  and  the  ves- 
sel was  beyond  Sandy  Hook  before  he  changed  his 
position.  It  is  doubtful  if  he  would  have  changed 
it  then,  had  not  a  steward  touched  him  on  tlie 
elbow,  and  said : 

"Any  letters,  sir?" 

"Any  what?"  cried  Morris,  suddenly  waking  up 
from  his  reverie. 

"Any  letters,  sir,  to  go  ashore  with  the  pilot?" 

"Oh,  letters.  No,  no,  I  haven't  any.  You  have 
a  regular  post-office  on  board,  have  you?  Mail 
leaves  every  day?" 

"No,  sir,"  replied  the  steward  with  a  smile,  "not 
every  day,  sir.  We  send  letters  ashore  for  passen- 
gers when  the  pilot  leaves  the  ship.  The  next 
mail,  sir,  will  leave  at  Queenstown." 

The  steward  seemed  uncertain  as  to  whether  the 
passenger  was  trying  to  joke  with  him  or  was  really 
ignorant  of  the  ways  of  steamships.  However,  his 
tone  was  very  deferential  and  explanatory,  not 
knowing  but  that  this  particular  passenger  might 
come  to  his  lot  at  the  table,  and  stewards  take  very 
good  care  to  offend  nobody.  Future  fees  must  not 
be  jeopardized. 

Being  aroused,  Mr.  Morris  now  took  a  look 
aj-ound  him.  It  seemed  wonderful  how  soon  order 
had  been  restored  from  the  chaos  of  the  starting. 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR, 


The  trunks  had  disappeared  down  the  hold;  the 
portmanteaus  were  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Most  of 
the  passengers  apparently  were  in  their  staterooms 
exploring  their  new  quarters,  getting  out  their 
wraps,  Tam-o*-Shanters,  fore-and-aft  caps,  steamer 
chairs,  rugs,  and  copies  of  paper-covered  novels. 
The  deck  was  almost  deserted,  yet  here  and  there  a 
steamer  chair  had  already  been  placed,  and  one  or 
two  were  occupied.  The  voyage  had  commenced. 
The  engine  had  settled  down  to  its  regular  low 
thud,  thud ;  the  vessel's  head  rose  gracefully  with 
the  long  swell  of  the  ocean,  and,  td  make  every- 
thing  complete,  several  passengers  already  felt  that 
inward  qualm — the  accompaniment  of  so  many 
ocean  voyages. 

George  Morris  yawned,  and  seemed  the  very  pic- 
ture of  ennui.  He  put  his  hands  deeply  into  his 
coat  pockets,  and  sauntered  across  the  deck.  Then 
he  took  a  stroll  up  the  one  side  and  down  the 
other.  As  he  lounged  along  it  was  very  evident 
that  he  was  tired  of  the  voyage,  even  before  it 
began.  Judging  from  his  listless  manner  nothing 
on  earth  could  arouse  the  interest  of  the  young 
man.  The  gong  sounded  faintly  in  the  inner  depth 
of  the  ship  somewhere,  announcing  dinner.  Then, 
as  the  steward  appeared  up  the  companion  way,  the 
sonorous  whang,   whang,  became  louder,  and  the 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


hatless  official,  with  the  gong  in  hand,  beat  that 
instrument  several  final  strokes,  after  which  he  dis- 
appeared into  the  regions  below. 

"I  may  as  well  go  down,"  said  Morris  to  himself, 
"and  see  where  they  have  placed  me  at  table.  But 
I  haven't  much  interest  in  dinner." 

As  he  walked  to  the  companion  way  an  elderly 
gentleman  and  a  young  lady  appeared  at  the  oppo- 
site door,  ready  to  descend  the  stairs.  Neither  of 
them  saw  the  young  man.  But  if  they  had,  one  of 
them  at  least  would  have  doubted  the  young  man's 
sanity.  He  stared  at  the  couple  for  a  moment  with 
a  look  of  grotesque  horror  on  his  face  that  was 
absolutely  comical.  Then  he  turned,  and  ran  the 
length  of  the  deck,  with  a  speed  unconscious  of  all 
obstacles. 

"Say,"  he  cried  to  the  captain,  "I  want  to  go 
ashore.  I  must  go  ashore.  I  want  to  go  ashore 
with  the  pilot." 

The  captain  smiled,  and  said,  *T  shall  be  very 
happy  to  put  you  ashore,  sir,  but  it  will  have  to  be 
at  Queenstown.     The  pilot  has  gone." 

"Why,  it  was  only  a  moment  ago  that  the  stew- 
ard asked  me  if  I  had  any  letters  to  post.  Surely 
he  cannot  have  gone  yet?" 

"It  is  longer  than  that,  I  am  afraid,"  said  the 
captain.     "The  pilot  left  the  ship  half  an  hour  ago." 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


"Is  there  no  way  I  can  get  ashore?  I  don't  mind 
what  I  pay  for  it." 

"Unless  we  break  a  shaft  and  have  to  turn  back 
there  is  no  way  that  I  know  of.  I  am  afraid  you 
will  have  to  make  the  best  of  it  until  we  reach 
Queenstown." 

"Can't  you  signal  a  boat  and  let  me  get  off  on 
her?" 

"Well,  I  suppose  we  could.  It  is  a  very  unusual 
thing  to  do.  But  that  would  delay  us  for  some 
time,  and  unless  the  business  is  of  the  utmost  neces- 
sity, I  would  not  feel  justified  in  delaying  a 
steamer,  or  in  other  words  delaying  several  hundred 
passengers,  for  the  convenience  of  one.  If  you  tell 
me  what  the  trouble  is  I  shall  tell  you  at  once 
whether  I  can  promise  to  signal  a  boat  if  I  get  the 
opportunity  of  doing  so." 

Morris  thought  for  a  moment.  It  would  sound 
very  absurd  to  the  captain  for  him  to  say  that  there 
was  a  passenger  on  the  ship  whom  he  desired  very 
much  not  to  meet,  and  yet,  after  all,  that  was  what 
made  the  thought  of  the  voyage  so  distasteful  to 
him. 

He  merely  said,  "Thank  you,"  and  turned  away, 
muttering  to  himself  something  in  condemnation  of 
his  luck  in  general.  As  he  walked  slowly  down  the 
deck  up  which  he  had  rushed  with  such  headlong 


^. 


I 
I 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR.  7 

Speed  a  few  moments  before,  he  noticed  a  lady 
trying  to  set  together  her  steamer  chair,  which 
had  seemingly  given  way— a  habit  of  steamer 
chairs. 

She  looked  up  appealingly  at  Mr.  Morris,  but 
that  gentleman  was  too  preoccupied  with  his  own 
situation  to  be  gallant.  As  he  passed  her,  the  lady 
said : 

"Would  you  be  kind  enough  to  see  if  you  can 
put  my  steamer  chair  together?" 

Mr.  Morris  looked  astonished  at  this  very  simple 
request.  He  had  resolved  to  make  this  particular 
voyage  without  becoming  acquainted  with  any- 
body, more  especially  a  lady. 

"Madam,"  he  said,  "I  shall  be  pleased  to  call  to 
your  assistance  the  deck  steward,  if  you  wish." 

"If  I  had  wished  that,"  replied  the  lady,  with 
some  asperity,  "  I  would  have  asked  you  to  do  so. 
As  it  is,  I  asked  you  to  fix  it  yourself." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  Mr.  Morris,  with 
some  haughtiness.  "I  do  not  see  that  it  matters 
who  mends  the  steamer  chair  so  long  as  the  steamer 
chair  is  mended.  I  am  not  a  deck  steward."  Then, 
thinking  he  had  spoken  rather  harshly,  he  added,  *'I 
am  not  a  deck  steward,  and  don't  understand  the 
construction  of  steamer  chairs  as  well  as  they  do, 
you  see." 


! 


8 


IN  A   STEAMER   CHAIR. 


The  lady  rose.  There  was  a  certain  amount  of 
indignation  in  her  voice  as  she  said : 

"Then  pray  allow  me  to  present  you  with  this 
steamer  chair." 

"I — I — really,  madam,  I  do  not  understand  you," 
stammered  the  young  man,  astonished  at  the  turn 
the  unsought  conversation  had  taken. 

"I  think,"  replied  the  lady,  "that  what  I  said  was 
plain  enough.  I  beg  you  to  accept  this  steamer 
chair  as  your  own.  It  is  of  no  further  use  to 
me." 

Saying  this,  the  young  woman,  with  some  dig- 
nity, turned  her  back  upon  him,  and  disappeared 
down  the  companion  way,  leaving  Morris  in  a  state 
of  utter  bewilderment  as  he  looked  down  at  the 
broken  steamer  chair,  wondering  if  the  lady  was 
insane.  All  at  once  he  noticed  a  rent  in  his  trou- 
sers, between  the  knee  and  the  instep. 

"Good  Heavens!  how  have  I  done  this?  My  best 
pair  of  trousers,  too.  Gracious!"  he  cried,  as  a 
bewildered  look  stole  over  his  face,  "it  isn't  possible 
that  in  racing  up  this  deck  I  ran  against  this 
steamer  chair  and  knocked  it  to  flinders,  and  pos- 
sibly upset  the  lady  at  the  same  time?  By  George! 
that's  just  what  the  trouble  is." 

Looking  at  the  back  of  the  flimsy  chair  he 
noticed  a  tag  tied  to  it,  and  on  the  tag  he  saw  the 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR,  9 

name,  "Miss  Katherine  Earle,  New  York."  Pass- 
ing to  the  other  side  he  called  the  deck 
steward. 

"Steward,"  he  said,  "there  is  a  chair  somewhere 
among  your  pile  with  the  name  'Geo.  Morris*  on  it. 
Will  you  get  it  for  me?" 

"Certainly,  sir,"  answered  the  steward,  and  very 
shortly  the  other  steamer  chair,  which,  by  the  way, 
was  a  much  more  elegant,  expensive,  and  stable 
affair  than  the  one  that  belonged  to  Miss  Katherine 
Earle,  was  brought  to  him.  Then  he  untied  the 
tag  from  his  own  chair  and  tied  it  to  the  flimsy 
structure  that  had  just  been  offered  to  him ;  next 
:ie  untied  the  tag  from  the  lady's  chair  and  put  it 
on  his  own. 

"Now,  steward,"  he  said,  "  do  you  know  the  lady 
who  sat  in  this  chair?" 

"No,  sir,"  said  the  steward,  "I  do  not.  You  see, 
we  are  only  a  few  hours  out,  sir." 

"Very  well,  you  will  have  no  trouble  finding  her. 
When  she  comes  on  deck  again,  please  tell  her 
that  this  chair  is  hers,  with  the  apologies  of  the 
gentleman  who  broke  her  own,  and  see  if  you  can 
mend  this  other  chair  for  me." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  steward,  "there  will  be  no 
trouble  about  that.  They  are  rather  rickety  things 
at  best,  sir.* 


>• 


(I 


lO 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR, 


<<■ 


'1  , 


'Very  well,  if  you  do  this  for  me  nicely  you  will 
not  be  a  financial  sufTerer." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  The  dinner  gong  rang  some 
time  ago,  sir." 

"Yes,  I  heard  it,"  answered  Morris. 

Placing  his  hands  behind  him  he  walked  up  and 
down  the  deck,  keeping  an  anxious  eye  now  and 
then  on  the  companion  way.  Finally,  the  young 
lady  whom  he  had  seen  going  down  with  the  elderly 
gentleman  appeared  alone  on  deck.  Then  Morris 
acted  very  strangely.  With  the  stealthy  demeanor 
of  an  Indian  avoiding  his  deadly  enemy,  he  slunk 
behind  the  different  structures  on  the  deck  until  he 
reached  the  other  door  of  the  companion  way,  and 
then,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  ran  down  the  steps. 
There  were  still  quite  a  number  of  people  in  the 
saloon,  and  seated  at  the  side  of  one  of  the  smaller 
tables  he  noticed  the  lady  whose  name  he  imagined 
was  Miss  Katherine  Earle. 

"My  name  is  Morris,"  said  that  gentleman  to  the 
head  steward.     "Where  have  you  placed  me?" 

The  steward  took  him  down  the  long  table,  look- 
ing at  the  cards  beside  the  row  of  plates. 

"Here  you  are,  sir,"  said  the  steward.  "We  are 
rather  crowded  this  voyage,  sir." 

Morris  did  not  answer  him,  for  opposite  he 
noticed  the  old  gentleman  who  had  been  the  com- 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


II 


panion  of  the  young  lady,  lingering  over  his 
wine. 

"Isn't  there  any  other  place  vacant?  At  one  of 
the  smaller  tables,  for  instance?  I  don't  like  to  sit 
at  the  long  table,"  said  Morris,  placing  his  finger 
and  thur  b  significantly  in  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

"I  think  that  can  be  arranged,  sir,"  answered  the 
steward,  with  a  smile. 

"Is  there  a  place  vacant  at  the  table  where  that 
young  lady  is  sitting  alone?"  said  Morris,  nodding 
in  the  direction. 

"Well,  sir,  all  the  places  are  taken  there;  but  the 
gentleman  who  has  been  placed  at  the  head  of  the 
table  has  not  come  down,  sir,  and  if  you  like  I  will 
change  his  card  for  yours  at  the  long  table." 

"I  wish  you  would." 

So  with  that  he  took  his  place  at  the  head  of  the 
small  table,  and  had  the  indignant  young  lady  at 
his  right  hand. 

"There  ought  to  be  a  master  of  ceremonies," 
began  Morris,  with  some  hesitation,  "to  introduce 
people  to  each  other  on  board  a  steamship.  As  it 
is,  however,  people  have  to  get  acquainted  as  best 
they  may.  My  name  is  Morris,  and,  unless  I  am 
mistaken,  you  are  Miss  Katherine  Earle.  Am  I 
right?" 

"You  are   right  about  my  name,"  answered  the 


12 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


young  lady.  "I  presume  you  ought  to  be  about 
your  own." 

"Oh,  I  can  prove  that,"  said  Morris,  with  a  smile. 
"  I  have  letters  to  show,  and  cards,  and  things  like 
that." 

Then  he  seemed  to  catch  his  breath  as  he  remem- 
bered there  was  also  a  young  woman  on  board  who 
could  vouch  that  his  name  was  George  Morris. 
This  took  him  aback  for  a  moment,  and  he  was 
silent.  Miss  Earle  made  no  reply  to  his  offer  of 
identification. 

"Miss  Earle,"  he  said  hesitatingly  at  last,  "I  wish 
you  would  permit  me  to  apologize  to  you  if  I  am 
as  culpable  as  I  imagine.  Did  I  run  against  your 
chair  and  break  it?" 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  replied  the  young  lady, 
looking  at  him  steadily,  "that  you  do  not  know 
whether  you  did  or  not?" 

"Well,  it's  a  pretty  hard  thing  to  ask  a  person  to 
believe,  and  yet  I  assure  you  that  is  the  fact.  I 
have  only  the  dimmest  remembrance  of  the  disas- 
ter, as  of  something  I  might  have  done  in  a  dream. 
To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  did  not  even  suspect  I  had 
done  so  until  I  noticed  I  had  torn  a  portion  of  my 
clothing  by  the  collision.  After  you  left,  it  just 
dawned  upon  me  that  I  was  the  one  who  smashed 
(he    chair.     I   therefore    desire   to  apologize   very 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR.  I3 

humbly,   and    hope    you    will    permit    me    to  do 
so." 

"For  what  do  you  intend  to  apologize,  Mr.  Mor- 
ris? For  breaking  the  chair,  or  refusing  to  mend  it 
when  I  asked  you?" 

"For  both.  I  was  really  in  a  good  deal  of  trou- 
ble just  the  moment  before  I  ran  against  your 
chair.  Miss  Earle,  and  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me 
on  the  ground  of  temporary  insanity.  Why,  you 
know,  they  even  let  off  murderers  on  that  plea,  so  I 
hope  to  be  forgiven  for  being  careless  in  the  first 
place,  and  boorish  in  the  second." 

"You  are  freely  forgiven,  Mr.  Morris.  In  fact, 
now  that  I  think  more  calmly  about  the  incident,  it 
was  really  a  very  trivial  affair  to  get  angry  over, 
and  I  must  confess  I  was  angry." 

"You  were  perfectly  justified." 

"In  getting  angry,  perhaps ;  but  in  showing  my 
anger,  no — as  someone  says  in  a  play.  Meanwhile, 
we'll  forget  all  about  it,"  and  with  that  the  young 
lady  rose,  bidding  her  new  acquaintance  good-night. 

George  Morris  found  he  had  more  appetite  for 
dinner  than  he  expected  to  have. 


il! 


14 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


SECOND  DAY. 


Mr.  George  Morris  did  not  sleep  well  his  first 


night  on  the  City  of  Buffalo.  He  dreamt  that  he 
was  being  chased  around  the  deck  by  a  couple  of 
young  ladies,  one  a  very  pronounced  blonde,  and 
the  other  an  equally  pronounced  brunette,  and  he 
suffered  a  great  deal  because  of  the  uncertainty  as 
to  which  of  the  two  pursuers  he  desired  the  most  to 
avoid.  It  seemed  to  him  that  at  last  he  was  cor- 
nered, and  the  fiendish  young  ladies  began  literally, 
as  the  slang  phrase  is,  to  mop  the  deck  with  him. 
He  felt  himself  being  slowly  pushed  back  and  for- 
ward across  the  deck,  and  he  wondered  how  long  he 
would  last  if  this  treatment  were  kept  up.  By  and 
by  he  found  himself  lying  still  in  his  bunk,  and  the 
swish,  swish  above  him  of  the  men  scrubbing  the 
deck  in  the  early  morning  showed  him  his  dream 
had  merged  into  reality.  He  remembered  then 
that  it  was  the  custom  of  the  smoking  room  stew- 
ard to  bring  a  large  silver  pot  of  fragrant  coffee 
early  every  morning  and  place  it  on  the  table  of  the 
smoking  room.  Morris  also  recollected  that  on 
former  voyages  that  early  morning  coffee  had 
always  tasted  particularly  good.  It  was  grateful 
and  comforting,  as  the  advertisement  has  it. 
Shortly  after,   Mr.    Morris  was  on   the  wet  deck, 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


»5 


■I 


I 


which  the  men  were  still  scrubbing  with  the  slow, 
measured  swish,  swish  of  the  brush  he  had  heard 
earlier  in  the  morning.  No  rain  was  falling,  but 
everything  had  a  rainy  look.  At  first  he  could  see 
only  a  short  distance  from  the  ship.  The  clouds 
appeared  to  have  come  down  on  the  water,  where 
they  hung,  lowering.  There  was  no  evidence  that 
such  a  thing  as  a  sun  existed.  The  waves  rolled 
out  of  this  watery  mist  with  an  oily  look,  and  the 
air  was  so  damp  and  chilly  that  it  made  Morris 
shiver  as  he  looked  out  on  the  dreary  prospect. 
He  thrust  his  hands  deep  into  his  coat  pockets, 
which  seemed  to  be  an  indolent  habit  of  his,  and 
walked  along  the  slippery  deck  to  search  for  the 
smoking  room.  He  was  thinking  of  his  curious  and 
troublesome  dream,  when  around  the  corner  came 
the  brunette,  wrapped  in  a  long  cloak  that  covered 
her  from  head  to  foot.  The  cloak  had  a  couple  of 
side  pockets  set  angleways  in  front,  after  the  man- 
ner of  the  pockets  in  ulsters.  In  these  pockets 
Miss  Earle's  hands  were  placed,  and  she  walked  the 
deck  with  a  certain  independent  manner  which  Mr. 
Morris  remembered  that  he  disliked.  She  seemed 
to  be  about  to  pass  him  without  recognition,  when 
the  young  man  took  off  his  cap  and  said  pleasantly, 
"Good-morning,  Miss  Earle.     You  are  a  very  early 


riser. 


'•  4 

•  if 


I    ! 


I 


.1! 


I     i 

'     '111 


i6 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


"The  habit  of  years,"  answered  that  young  lady, 
*'is  not  broken  by  merely  coming  on  board 
ship." 

Mr.  Morris  changed  step  and  walked  beside  her. 

"The  habit  of  years?"  he  said.  "Why,  you 
speak  as  if  you  were  an  old  woman." 

"I  am  an  old  woman,"  replied  the  girl,  "in  every 
thing  but  one  particular." 

"And  that  particular,"  said  her  companion,  "is 
the  very  important  one,  I  imagine,  of  years." 

"I  don't  know  why  that  is  so  very  important." 

"Oh,  you  will  think  so  in  after  life,  I  assure  you. 
I  speak  as  a  veteran  myself." 

The  young  lady  gave  him  a  quick  side  glance 
with  her  black  eyes,  from  under  the  hood  that 
almost  concealed  her  face. 

"You  say  you  are  a  veteran,"  she  answered,  "but 
you  don't  think  so.  It  would  offend  you  very 
deeply  to  be  called  old." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  about  that.  I  think  such  a 
remark  is  offensive  only  when  there  is  truth  in  it. 
A  young  fellow  slaps  his  companion  on  the  shoul- 
der and  calls  him  'old  man.'  The  gray-haired  vet- 
eran always  addresses  his  elderly  friend  as  'my 
boy'." 

"Under  which  category  do  you  think  you  come, 
then?" 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR, 


17 


every 


"but 
very 


;Ui 
:? 


I 


"Well,  I  don't  come  under  either  exactly.  I  am 
sort  of  on  the  middle  ground.  I  sometimes  feel 
very  old.  In  fact,  to  confess  to  you,  I  never  felt 
older  in  my  life  than  I  did  yesterday.  To-day  I 
am  a  great  deal  younger." 

"Dear  me,"  replied  the  young  lady,  "I  am  sorry 
to  hear  that." 

"Sorry!"  echoed  her  companion;  "I  don't  see 
why  you  should  be  sorry.  It  is  said  that  everyone 
rejoices  in  the  misfortunes  of  others,  but  it  is  rather 
unusual  to  hear  them  admit  it." 

"It  is  because  of  my  sympathy  for  others  that  I 
am  sorry  to  hear  you  are  younger  to-day  than  you 
were  yesterday.  If  you  take  to  running  along  the 
deck  to-day  then  the  results  will  be  disastrous,  and 
I  think  you  owe  it  to  your  fellow-passengers  to 
send  the  steward  with  his  gong  ahead  of  you,  so  as 
to  give  people  in  steamer  chairs  warning." 

"Miss  Earle,"  said  the  young  man,  "I  thought 
you  had  forgiven  me  for  yesterday.  I  am  sure  I 
apologized  very  humbly,  and  am  willing  to  apolo- 
gize again  to-day." 

"Did  I  forgive  you?     I  had  forgotten!" 

"But  you  remembered  the  fault.  I  am  afraid 
that  is  misplaced  forgetfulness.  The  truth  is,  I 
imagine,  you  are  very  unforgiving." 

"My  friends  do  not  think  so." 


1 
! 

t 

I  ill 


ii , 


i8 


/AT  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


"Then  I  suppose  you  rank  me  among  your  ene- 
mies?" 

"You  forget  that  I  have  known  you  for  a  day 
only." 

"That  is  true,  chronologically  speaking.  But 
you  must  remember  a  day  on  shipboard  is  very 
much  longer  than  a  day  on  shore.  In  fact,  I  look 
on  you  now  as  an  old  acquaintance,  and  I  should  be 
sorry  to  think  you  looked  on  me  as  an  enemy." 

"You  are  mistaken.  I  do  not.  I  look  on  you 
now  as  you  do  on  your  own  age — sort  of  between 
the  two." 

"And  which  way  do  you  think  I  shall  drift? 
Toward  the  enemy  line,  or  toward  the  line  of 
friendship?" 

"I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell." 

"Well,  Miss  Earle,  I  am  going  to  use  my  best 
endeavors  to  reach  the  friendship  line,  which  I  shall 
make  unless  the  current  is  too  strong  for  me.  I 
hope  you  are  not  so  prejudiced  against  me  that  the 
pleasant  effort  will  be  fruitless." 

"Oh,  I  am  strictly  neutral,"  said  the  young  lady. 
"Besides,  it  really  amounts  to  nothing.  Steamer 
friendships  are  the  most  evanescent  things  on 
earth." 

"Not   on   eatth,  surely,  Miss  Earle.    You  must 


mean  on  sea. 


f> 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


«9 


"Well,  the  earth  includes  the  sea,  you  know." 

"Have  you  had  experience  with  steamer  friend- 
ships? I  thought,  somehow,  this  was  your  first 
voyage." 

"What  made  you  think  so?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.     I  thought  it  was,  that's  all." 

"I  hope  there  is  nothing  in  my  manner  that 
would  induce  a  stranger  to  think  I  am  a  verdant 
traveler." 

"Oh,  not  at  all.  You  know,  a  person  somehow 
classifies  a  person's  fellow-passengers.  Some  ap. 
pear  to  have  been  crossing  the  ocean  all  their  lives, 
whereas,  in  fact,  they  are  probably  on  shipboard 
for  the  first  time.  Have  you  crossed  the  ocean 
before?" 

"Yes." 

"Now,  tell  me  whether  you  think  I  ever  crossed 
before?" 

"Why,  of  course  you  have.  I  should  say  that 
you  cross  probably  once  a  year.     Maybe  oftener." 

"Really?     For  business  or  pleasure?" 

"Oh,  business,  entirely.  You  did  not  look  yes- 
terday as  if  you  ever  had  any  pleasure  in  your  life." 

"Oh,  yesterday!  Don't  let  us  talk  about  yester- 
day. It's  to-day  now,  you  know.  You  seem  to  be 
a  mind  reader.  Perhaps  you  could  tell  my  occupa- 
tion?" 


"W 


20 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


>    i 


if 
It 


"Certainly.  Your  occupation  is  doubtless  that  of 
a  junior  partner  in  a  prosperous  New  York  house. 
You  go  over  to  Europe  every  year — perhaps  twice 
a  year,  to  look  after  the  interests  of  your  business." 

"You  think  I  am  a  sort  of  commercial  traveler, 
then?" 

"Well,  practically,  yes.  The  older  members  of 
the  firm,  I  should  imagine,  are  too  comfortably  situ- 
ated, and  care  too  little  for  the  pleasures  of  foreign 
travel,  to  devote  much  of  their  time  to  it.  So  what 
foreign  travel  there  is  to  be  done  falls  on  the  shoul- 
ders of  the  younger  partner.     Am  I  correct?" 

"Well,  I  don't  quite  class  myself  as  a  commercial 
traveler,  you  know,  but  in  the  main  you  are — in 
fact,  you  are  remarkably  near  right.  I  think  you 
must  be  something  of  a  mind  reader,  as  I  said 
before.  Miss  Earle,  or  is  it  possible  that  I  carry  my 
business  so  plainly  in  my  demeanor  as  all  that?" 

Miss  Earle  laughed.  It  was  a  very  bright,  pleas- 
ant, cheerful  laugh. 

"Still,  I  must  correct  you  where  you  are  wrong, 
for  fear  you  become  too  conceited  altogether  about 
your  powers  of  observation.  I  have  not  crossed 
the  ocean  as  often  as  you  seem  to  think.  In  the 
future  I  shall  perhaps  do  so  frequently.  I  am  the 
junior  partner,  as  you  say,  but  have  not  been  a 
partner  long.     In  fact  I  am  now  on  my  first  voyage 


Ti 


I; 


1        I'i; 


I  ii 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


ai 


I 


in  connection  with  the  new  partnership.  Now, 
Miss  Earle,  let  me  try  a  guess  at  your  occupation." 

"You  are  quite  at  liberty  to  guess  at  it." 

"But  will  you  tell  me  if  I  guess  correctly?" 

"Yes.     I  have  no  desire  to  conceal  it." 

"Then,  I  should  say  off-hand  that  you  are  a 
teacher,  and  are  now  taking  a  vacation  in  Europe. 
Am  I  right?" 

*'Tell  me  first  why  you  think  so?" 

"I  am  afraid  to  tell  you.  I  do  not  want  to  drift 
toward  the  line  of  enmity." 

"You  need  have  no  fear.  I  have  every  respect 
for  a  man  who  tells  the  truth  when  he  has  to." 

"Well,  I  think  a  school-teacher  is  very  apt  to  get 
into  a  certain  dictatorial  habit  of  speech.  School- 
teachers are  something  like  military  men.  They 
are  accustomed  to  implicit  obedience  without  ques- 
tion, and  this,  I  think,  affects  their  manner  with 
other  people." 

"You  think  I  am  dictatorial,  then?" 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  say  that  you  were  dictatorial 
exactly.  But  there  is  a  certain  confidence — I  don't 
know  just  how  to  express  it,  but  it  seems  to  jme, 
you  know — well,  I  am  going  deeper  and  deeper  into 
trouble  by  what  I  am  saying,  so  really  I  shall  not 
say  any  more.  I  do  not  know  just  how  to  ex- 
press  it." 


hi 


I 


ti 


:l 


i      III 


83 


IN  A   STEAMER   CHAIR. 


««i 


'I  think  you  express  it  very  nicely.  Go  on, 
please." 

"Oh,  you  are  laughing  at  me  now." 

'Not  at  all,  I  assure  you.  You  were  trying  to 
say  that  I  was  very  dictatorial." 

"No,  I  was  trying  to  say  nothing  of  the  kind.  I 
was  merely  trying  to  say  that  you  have  a  certain 
confidence  in  yourself,  and  a  certain  belief  that 
everything  you  say  is  perfectly  correct,  and  is  not 
to  be  questioned.  Now,  do  as  you  promised,  and 
tell  me  how  near  right  I  am." 

"You  are  entirely  wrong.     I  never  taught  school." 

"Well,  Miss  Earle,  I  confessed  to  my  occupation 
without  citing  any  mitigating  circumstances.  So 
now,  would  you  think  me  impertinent  if  1  asked 
you  to  be  equally  frank?" 

"Oh,  not  at  all !  But  I  may  say  at  once  that  I 
wouldn't  answer  you." 

"But  you  will  tell  me  if  I  guess." 

"Yes,  I  promise  that." 

"Well,  I  am  certainly  right  in  saying  that  you 
are  crossing  the  ocean  for  pleasure." 

"No,  you  are  entirely  wrong.  I  am  crossing  for 
business." 

"Then,  perhaps  you  cross  very  often,  too?" 

"No ;  I  crossed  only  once  before,  and  that  was 
coming  the  other  way." 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


n 


"Really,  this  is  very  mysterious.  When  are  you 
coming  back?" 

"I  am  not  coming  back." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Morris,  "I  give  it  up.  I  think  I 
have  scored  the  unusual  triumph  of  managing  to  be 
wrong  in  everything  that  I  have  said.     Have  I  not?" 

"I  think  you  have." 

"And  you  refuse  to  put  me  right?" 

"Certainly." 

"I  don't  think  you  are  quite  fair,  Miss  Earle." 

"I  don't  think  I  ever  claimed  to  be,  Mr.  Morris. 
But  I  am  tired  of  walking  now.  You  see,  I  have 
been  walking  the  deck  for  considerably  longer  than 
you  have.     I  think  I  shall  sit  down  for  a  while." 

"Let  me  take  you  to  your  chair." 

Miss  Earle  smiled.  "  It  would  be  of  very  little 
use,"  she  said. 

The  deck  steward  was  not  to  be  seen,  and  Morris, 
diving  into  a  dark  and  cluttered-up  apartment,  in 
which  the  chairs  were  piled,  speedily  picked  out  his 
own,  brought  it  to  where  the  young  lady  was  stand- 
ing, spread  it  out  in  its  proper  position,  and  said : 

"Now  let  me  get  you  a  rug  or  two." 

"You  have  made  a  mistake.  That  is  not  my 
chair." 

"Oh,  yes,  it  is.  I  looked  at  the  tag.  That  is 
your  name,  is  it  not?" 


•m'. 
I 


24 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


V       1 1 


Ml 


•I 


i    I 


"Yes,  that  is  my  name;  but  this  is  not  my  chair.** 
"Well,  I  beg  that  you  will  use  it  until  the  owner 
calls  for  it." 

"But  who  is  the  owner?     Is  this  your  chair?" 
"It  was  mine  until  after  I  smashed  up  yours." 
"Oh,  but  I  cannot  accept  your  chair,  Mr.  Morris." 
"You   surely    wouldn't   refuse   to   do  what   you 
desired,  in  fact,  commanded,  another  to  do.     You 
know    you    practically    ordered   me   to   take   your 
chair.     Well,  I  have  accepted  it.     It  is  going  to  be 
put  right  to-day.     So,  you   see,  you  cannot  refuse 
mine." 

Miss  Earle  looked  at  him  for  a  moment. 
"This  is  hardly  what  I  would  call  a  fair  ex- 
change," she  said.  "My  chair  was  really  a  very 
cheap  and  flimsy  one.  This  chair  is  much  more 
expensive.  You  see,  I  know  the  price  of  them.  I 
think  you  are  trying  to  arrange  your  revenge,  Mr. 
Morris.  I  think  you  want  to  bring  things  about  so 
that  I  shall  have  to  apologize  to  you  in  relation  to 
that  chair-breaking  incident.  However,  I  see  that 
this  chair  is  very  comfortable,  so  I  will  take  it. 
Wait  a  moment  till  I  get  my  rugs." 

"No,  no,"  cried  Morris,  "tell  me  where  you  left 
them.     I  will  get  them  for  you." 

"Thank  you.      I   left   them  on  the   seat  at  the 
head  of  the  companion  way.     One  is  red,  the  other 


I  ...i 


///  A   STEAMER   CHAIR. 


25 


is  mor^  variegated ;  I  cannot  describe  it,  but  they 
are  the  only  two  rugs  there,  I  think." 

A  moment  afterward  the  young  man  appeared 
with  the  rugs  on  his  arm,  and  arranged  them 
around  the  young  lady  after  the  manner  of  deck 
stewards  and  gallant  young  men  who  are  in  the 
habit  of  crossing  the  ocean. 

"Would  you  like  to  have  a  cup  of  coffee?" 

"I  would,  if  it  can  be  had."  i- 

"Well,  I  will  let  you  into  a  shipboard  secret. 
Every  morning  on  this  vessel  the  smoking-room 
steward  brings  up  a  pot  of  very  delicious  coffee, 
which  he  leaves  on  the  table  of  the  smoking  room. 
He  also  brings  a  few  biscuits — not  the  biscuit  of 
American  fame,  but  the  biscuit  of  English  manufac- 
ture, the  cracker,  as  we  call  it — and  those  who  fre- 
quent the  smoking  room  are  in  the  habit  sometimes 
of  rising  early,  and,  after  a  walk  on  deck,  pouring 
out  a  cup  of  coffee  for  themselves." 

"But  I  do  not  expect  to  be  a  habitu^  of  the 
smoking  room,"  said  Miss  Earle. 

"Nevertheless,  you  have  a  friend  who  will  be,  and 
so  in  that  way,  you  see,  you  will  enjoy  the  advan- 
tages of  belonging  to  the  smoking  club." 

A  few  moments  afterward,  Morris  appeared  with 
a  camp  stool  under  his  arm,  and  two  cups  of  coffee 
in  his  hands.     Miss  Earle  noticed   the  smile  sud- 


36 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


denly  fade  from  his  face,  and  a  look  of  annoyance, 
even  of  terror,  succeed  it.  His  hands  trembled, 
so  that  the  coflee  spilled  from  the  cup  into  the 
saucer, 

"Excuse  my  awkwardness,"  he  said  huskily; 
then,  handing  her  the  cup,  he  added,  "  I  shall  have 
to  go  now.  I  will  see  you  at  breakfast-time. 
Good-morning."  With  the  other  cup  still  in  his 
hand,  he  made  his  way  to  the  stair. 

Miss  Earle  looked  around  and  saw,  coming  up 
the  deck,  a  very  handsome  young  lady  with  blond 
hair. 


li 


THIRD  DAY. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  Mr.  George 
Morris  woke  up  after  a  sound  and  dreamless  sleep. 
He  woke  up  feeling  very  dissatisfied  with  himself, 
indeed.  He  said  he  was  a  fool,  which  was  probably 
true  enough,  but  even  the  calling  himself  so  did  not 
seem  to  make  matters  any  better.  He  reviewed  in 
his  mind  the  events  of  the  day  before.  He  remem- 
bered his  very  pleasant  walk  and  talk  with  Miss 
Earle.  He  knew  the  talk  had  been  rather  purpose- 
less, being  merely  that  sort  of  preliminary  conversa- 
tion which  two  people  who  do  not  yet  know  each 
other  indulge  in,  as  a  forerunner  to  future  friend- 
ship.     Then,   he  thought   of  his    awkward   leave- 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


27 


taking  of  Miss  Earle  when  he  presented  her  with 
the  cup  of  coffee,  and  for  the  first  time  he  remem- 
bered with  a  pang  that  he  had  under  his  arm  a 
camp  stool.  It  must  have  been  evident  to  Miss 
Earle  that  he  had  intended  to  sit  down  and  have  a 
cup  of  coffee  with  her,  and  continue  the  acquaint- 
ance begun  so  auspiciously  that  morning.  He  won- 
dered if  she  had  noticed  that  his  precipitate  retreat 
had  taken  place  the  moment  there  appeared  on  the 
deck  a  very  handsome  and  stylishly  dressed  young 
lady.  He  began  to  fear  that  Miss  Earle  must  have 
thought  him  suddenly  taken  with  insanity,  or, 
worse  still,  seasickness.  The  more  Morris  thought 
about  the  matter  the  more  dissatisfied  he  was  with 
himself  and  his  actions.  At  breakfast — he  had 
arrived  very  late,  almost  as  Miss  Earle  was  leaving 
— he  felt  he  had  preserved  a  glum,  reticent  de- 
meanor, and  that  he  had  the  general  manner  of  a 
fugitive  anxious  to  escape  justice.  He  wondered 
what  Miss  Earle  must  have  thought  of  him  after  his 
eager  conversation  of  the  morning.  The  rest  of  the 
day  he  had  spent  gloomily  in  the  smoking  room, 
and  had  not  seen  the  young  lady  again.  The  more 
he  thought  of  the  day  the  worse  he  felt  about  it. 
However,  he  was  philosopher  enough  to  know  that 
all  the  thinking  he  could  do  would  not  change  a 
single  item  in  the  sum  of  the  day's  doing.     So  he 


28 


IN  A  STEAMER   CHAIR. 


I 


slipped  back  the  curtain  on  its  brass  rod  and  looked 
out  into  his  stateroom.  The  valise  which  he  had 
left  carelessly  on  the  floor  the  night  before  was  now 
making  an  excursion  backward  and  forward  from 
the  bunk  to  the  sofa,  and  the  books  that  had  been 
piled  up  on  the  sofa  were  scattered  all  over  the 
room.  It  was  evident  that  dressing  was  going  to 
be  an  acrobatic  performance. 

The  deck,  when  he  reached  it,  was  wet,  but  not 
with  the  moisture  of  the  scrubbing.  The  outlook 
was  clear  enough,  but  a  strong  head  wind  was  blow- 
ing that  whistled  through  the  cordage  of  the  vessel, 
and  caused  the  black  smoke  of  the  funnels  to  float 
back  like  huge  somber  streamers.  The  prow  of  the 
big  ship  rose  now  into  the  sky  and  then  sank  down 
into  the  bosom  of  the  sea,  and  every  time  it  de- 
scended a  white  cloud  of  spray  drenched  every- 
thing forward,  and  sent  a  drizzly  salt  rain  along  the 
whole  length  of  the  steamer. 

"There  will  be  no  ladies  on  deck  this  morning," 
said  Morris  to  himself,  as  he  held  his  cap  on  with 
both  hands  and  looked  around  at  the  threatening 
sky.  At  this  moment  one  wave  struck  the  steamer 
with  more  than  usual  force  and  raised  its  crest 
amidships  over  the  decks.  Morris  had  just  time  to 
escape  into  the  companion  way  when  it  fell  with  a 
crash   on  the   deck,  flooding  the   promenade,  and 


m  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


39 


then  rushing  out  through  the  scuppers  into  the 
sea. 

"By  George!**  said  Morris.  "I  guess  there  vvon*t 
be  many  at  breakfast  either,  if  this  sort  of  thing 
keeps  up.  I  think  the  other  side  of  the  ship  is  the 
best.'* 

Coming  out  on  the  other  side  of  the  deck,  he  was 
astonished  to  see,  sitting  in  her  steamer  chair, 
snugly  wrapped  up  in  her  rugs,  Miss  Katherine 
Earle,  balancing  a  cup  of  steaming  coffee  in  her 
hand.  The  steamer  chair  had  been  tightly  tied  to 
the  brass  stanchion,  or  hand  rail,  that  ran  along  the 
side  of  the  housed-in  portion  of  the  companion  way, 
and  although  the  steamer  swayed  to  and  fro,  as 
well  as  up  and  down,  the  chair  was  immovable. 
An  awning  had  been  put  up  over  the  place  where 
the  chair  was  fastened,  and  every  now  and  then  on 
that  dripping  piece  of  canvas  the  salt  rain  fell,  the 
result  of  the  waves  that  dashed  in  on  the  other  side 
of  the  steamer. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Morris!"  said  the  young 
lady  brightly.  "I  am  very  glad  you  have  come.  I 
will  let  you  into  a  shipboard  secret.  The  steward 
of  the  smoking  room  brings  up  every  morning  a  pot 
of  very  fragrant  coffee.  Now,  if  you  will  speak  to 
him,  I  am  sure  he  will  be  very  glad  to  give  you  a 
cup.*' 


nmim 


30 


AV  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


"You  do  like  to  make  fun  of  me,  don't  you?" 
answered  the  young  man. 

"Oh,  dear  no/'  said  Miss  Earle,  "I  shouldn't 
think  of  making  fun  of  anything  so  serious.  Is  it 
making  fun  of  a  person  who  looks  half  frozen  to 
offer  him  a  cup  of  warm  coffee?  I  think  there  is 
more  philanthropy  than  fun  about  that." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  but  you  are  right.  At  any 
rate,  I  prefer  to  take  it  as  philanthropy  rather  than 
fun.  I  shall  go  and  get  a  cup  of  coffee  for  myself, 
if  you  will  permit  me  to  place  a  chair  beside 
yours?" 

"Oh,  I  beg  you  not  to  go  for  the  coffee  yourself. 
You  certainly  will  never  reach  here  with  it.  You 
see  the  remains  of  that  cup  down  by  the  side  of  the 
vessel.  The  steward  himself  slipped  and  fell,  with 
that  piece  of  crockery  in  his  hands.  I  am  sure  he 
hurt  himself,  although  he  said  he  didn't." 

"Did  you  give  him  an  extra  fee  on  that  account?" 
asked  Morris  cynically. 

"Of  course  I  did.  I  am  like  the  Government  in 
that  respect.  I  take  care  of  those  who  are  injured 
in  my  service." 

"Perhaps  that's  why  he  went  down.  They  are 
a  sly  set,  those  stewards.  He  knew  that  a  man 
would  simply  laugh  at  him,  or  perhaps  utter  some 
maledictions  if  he  were  not  feeling  in  very  good 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


31 


humor.  In  all  my  ocean  voyages,  I  have  never  had 
the  good  fortune  to  see  a  steward  fall.  He  knew 
also,  the  racsal,  that  a  lady  would  sympathize  with 
him,  and  that  he  wouldn't  lose  anything  by  it, 
except  the  cup,  which  is  not  his  loss." 

"Oh,  yes,  it  is,"  replied  the  young  lady,  "he  tells 
me  they  charge  all  breakages  against  him." 

"He  didn't  tell  you  what  method  they  had  of 
keeping  track  of  the  breakages,  did  he?  Suppose 
he  told  the  chief  steward  that  you  broke  the  cup, 
which  it  is  likely  he  did.     What  then?" 

"Oh,  you  are  too  cynical  this  morning,  and  it 
would  serve  you  just  right  if  you  go  and  get  some 
coffee  for  yourself,  and  meet  with  the  same  disaster 
that  overtook  the  unfortunate  steward.  Only  you 
are  forewarned  that  you  shall  have  neither  sym- 
pathy nor  fee." 

"Well,  in  that  case,"  said  the  young  man,  "I  shall 
not  take  the  risk.  I  shall  sacrifice  the  steward 
rather.  Oh,  here  he  is.  I  say,  steward,  will  you 
bring  me  a  cup  of  coffee,  please?" 

"Yes,  sir.     Any  biscuit,  sir?" 

"No,  no  biscuit.  Just  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a 
couple  of  lumps  of  sugar,  please;  and  if  you  can 
first  get  me  a  chair,  and  strap  it  to  this  rod  in  the 
manner  you  do  so  well,  I  shall  be  very  much 
obliged." 


iltiii 


32 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


M  I'; 


"Yes,  sir.     I  shall  call  the  deck  steward,  sir." 

"Now,  notice  that.  You  see  the  rascals  never 
interfere  with  each  other.  The  deck  steward  wants 
a  fee,  and  the  smoking-room  steward  wants  a  fee, 
and  each  one  attends  strictly  to  his  own  business, 
and  doesn't  interfere  with  the  possible  fees  of  any- 
body else." 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Earle,  "is  not  that  the  correct 
way?  If  things  are  to  be  well  done,  that  is  how 
they  should  be  done.  Now,  just  notice  how  much 
more  artistically  the  deck  steward  arranged  these 
rugs  than  you  did  yesterday  morning.  I  think  it  is 
worth  a  good  fee  to  be  wrapped  up  so  comfortably 
as  that." 

"I  guess  I'll  take  lessons  from  the  deck  steward, 
then,  and  even  if  I  do  not  get  a  fee,  I  may  perhaps 
get  some  gratitude  at  least." 

"Gratitude?  Why,  you  should  think  it  a  privi- 
lege." 

"Well,  Miss  Earle,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  do.  It  is  a 
privilege  that — I  hope  you  will  not  think  I  am  try- 
ing to  flatter  you  when  I  say — any  man  might  be 
proud  of." 

"Oh,  dear,"  replied  the  young  lady,  laughing,  **I 
did  not  mean  it  in  that  way  at  all.  I  meant  that  it 
was  a  privilege  to  be  allowed  to  practice  on  those 
particular  rugs.    Now,  a  man  should  remember  that 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


33 


he  undertakes  a  very  great  responsibility  when  he 
volunteers  to  place  the  rugs  around  a  lady  on 
a  steamer  chair.  He  may  make  her  look  very 
neat  and  even  pretty  by  a  nice  disposal  of  the 
rugs,  or  he  may  make  her  look  like  a  horrible 
bundle." 

"Well,  then,  I  think  I  was  not  such  a  failure  after 
all  yesterday  morning,  for  you  certainly  looked 
very  neat  and  pretty." 

"Then,  if  I  did,  Mr.  Morris,  do  not  flatter  yourself 
it  was  at  all  on  account  of  your  disposal  of  the  rugs, 
for  the  moment  you  had  left  a  very  handsome  young 
lady  came  along,  and,  looking  at  me,  said,  with  such 
a  pleasant  smile,  'Why,  what  a  pretty  rug  you  have 
there;  but  how  the  steward  has  bungled  it  about 
you !  Let  me  fix  it,*  and  with  that  she  gave  it  a 
touch  here  and  a  smooth  down  there,  and  the  result 
was  really  so  nice  that  I  hated  to  go  down  to  break- 
fast. It  is  a  pity  you  went  away  so  quickly  yester- 
day morning.  You  might  have  had  an  opportunity 
of  becoming  acquainted  with  the  lady,  who  is,  I 
think,  the  prettiest  girl  on  board  this  ship." 

"Do  you?"  said  Mr.  Morris  shortly. 

"Yes,  I  do.  Have  you  noticed  her?  She  sits 
over  there  at  the  long  table  near  the  center.  You 
must  have  seen  her;  she  is  so  very,  very  pretty, 
that  you  cannot  help  noticing  her." 


T 


III  ! 


M 


1J1     IH 
1    ,11 


34 


/JV  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


"I  am  not  looking  after  pretty  women  this  voy- 
age," said  Morris  savagely. 

"Oh,  are  you  not?  Well,  I  must  thank  you  for 
that.  That  is  evidently  a  very  sincere  compliment. 
No,  I  can't  call  it  a  compliment,  but  a  sincere 
remark.  I  think  the  first  sincere  one  you  have 
made  to-day." 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean?"  said  Morris,  looking 
at  her  in  a  bewildered  sort  of  way. 

"You  have  been  looking  after  me  this  morning, 
have  you  not,  and  yesterday  morning?  And  taking 
ever  so  much  pains  to  be  helpful  and  entertaining, 

and  now,  all  at  once  you  say Well,  you  know 

what  you  said  just  now." 

"Oh,  yes.    Well,  you  see " 

"Oh,  you  can't  get  out  of  it,  Mr.  Morris.  It  was 
said,  and  with  evident  sincerity." 

"Then  you  really  think  you  are  pretty?"  said 
Mr.  Morris,  looking  at  his  companion,  who  flushed 
under  the  remark. 

"Ah,  now,"  she  said,  "you  imagine  you  are  carry- 
ing the  war  into  the  enemy's  country.  But  I  don't 
at  all  appreciate  a  remark  like  that.  I  don't  know 
but  I  dislike  it  even  more  than  I  do  your  compli- 
ments, which  is  saying  a  good  deal." 

"I  assure  you,"  said  Morris  stiffly,  "that  I  have 


IN  A   STEAMER   CHAIR. 


35 


not  intended  to  pay  any  compliments.     I  am  not  a 
man  who  pays  compliments." 

"Not  even  left-handed  ones?" 

"Not  even  any  kind,  that  I  know  of.     I  try  as  a 
general  thing  to  speak  the  truth." 

"Ah,  and  shame  your  hearers?" 

"Well,  I  don't  care  who  I  shame  as  long  as  I  suc- 
ceed in  speaking  the  truth." 

"Very  well,  then;  tell  me  the  truth.  Have  you 
noticed  this  handsome  young  lady  I  speak  of?" 

'  'Yes,  I  have  seen  her." 

"Don't  you  think  she  is  very  pretty?" 

"Yes,  I  think  she  is." 

"Don't  you  think  she  is  the  prettiest  woman  on 
the  ship?" 

"Yes,  I  think  she  is." 

"Are  you  afraid  of  pretty  women?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  I  am." 

"Then,  tell  me  why,  the  moment  she  appeared  on 
the  deck  yesterday  morning,  you  were  so  much 
agitated  that  you  spilled  most  of  my  coffee  in  the 
saucer?" 

"Did  I  appear  agitated?"  asked  Morris,  with 
some  hesitation. 

"  Now,  I  consider  that  sort  of  thing  worse  than  a 
direct  prevarication." 


36 


IN  A    STEAMER   CIJAIR. 


"What  sort  of  thing?" 

"Why,  a  disingenuous  answer.  You  know  you 
appeared  agitated.  You  know  you  were  agitated. 
You  know  you  had  a  camp  stool,  and  that  you 
intended  to  sit  down  here  and  drink  your  coffee. 
All  at  once  you  changed  your  mind,  and  that 
change  was  coincident  with  the  appearance  on  deck 
of  the  handsome  young  lady  I  speak  of.  I  merely 
ask  why?" 

"Now,  look  here,  Miss  Earle,  even  the  worst 
malefactor  is  not  expected  to  incriminate  himself. 
I  can  refuse  to  answer,  can  I  not?"  ^ 

"Certainly  you  may.  You  may  refuse  to  answer 
anything,  if  you  like.  It  was  only  because  you 
were  boasting  about  speaking  the  truth  that  I 
thought  I  should  test  your  truth-telling  qualities. 
I  have  been  expecting  every  moment  that  you 
would  say  to  me  I  was  very  impertinent,  and  that 
it  was  no  business  of  mine,  which  would  have  been 
quite  true.  There,  you  see,  you  had  a  beautiful 
chance  of  speaking  the  truth  which  you  let  slip 
entirely  unnoticed.  But  there  is  the  breakfast 
gong.  Now,  I  must  confess  to  being  very  hungry 
indeed.     I  think  I  shall  go  down  into  the  saloon." 

"Please  take  my  arm,  Miss  Earle,"  said  the  young 
man. 

"Oh,  not  at  all,"  replied  that  young  lady;    "I 


IN  A    STEAMER    CHAIR. 


37 


want  something  infinitely  more  stable.  I  shall 
work  my  way  along  this  brass  rod  until  I  can  make 
a  bolt  for  the  door.  If  you  want  to  make  yourself 
real  useful,  go  and  stand  on  the  stairway,  or  the 
companion  way  I  think  you  call  it,  and  if  I  come 
through  the  door  with  too  great  force  you'll  pre- 
vent me  from  going  down  the  stairs." 

"  'Who  ran  to  help  me  when  I  fell,' "  quoted  Mr. 
Morris,  as  he  walked  along  ahead  of  her,  having 
some  difficulty  in  maintaining  his  equilibrium. 

"I  wouldn't  mind  the  falling,"  replied  the  young 
lady,  "if  you  only  would  some  pretty  story  tell; 
but  you  are  very  prosaic,  Mr.  Morris.  Do  you  ever 
read  anything  at  all?" 

"I  never  read  when  I  have  somebody  more  inter- 
esting than  a  book  to  talk  to." 

"Oh,  thank  you.  Now,  if  you  will  get  into  posi- 
tion on  the  stairway,  I  shall  make  my  attempts  at 
getting  to  the  door." 

"I  feel  like  a  baseball  catcher,"  said  Morris,  tak- 
ing up  a  position  somewhat  similar  to  that  of  the 
useful  man  behind  the  bat. 

Miss  Earle,  however,  waited  until  the  ship  was 
on  an  even  keel,  then  walked  to  the  top  of  the  com- 
panion way,  and,  deftly  catching  up  the  train  of 
her  dress,  with  as  much  composure  as  if  she  were  in 
a    ballroom,   stepped    lightly    down   the   stairway. 


% 


yV 


38 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR 


Looking  smilingly  over  her  shoulder  at  the  aston- 
ished baseball  catcher,  she  said : 

"I  wish  you  would  not  stand  in  that  ridiculous 
attitude,  but  come  and  accompany  me  to  the  break- 
fast table.     As  I  told  you,  I  am  very  hungry." 

The  steamer  gave  a  lurch  that  nearly  precipitated 
Morris  down  the  stairway,  and  the  next  moment  he 
was  by  her  side. 

"Are  you  fond  of  baseball?"  she  said  to  him. 

"You  should  see  me  in  the  park  when  our  side 
makes  a  home  run.     Do  you  like  the  game?" 

"I  never  saw  a  game  in  my  life." 

"What!  you  an  American  girl,  and  never  saw  a 
game  of  baseball?    Why,  I  am  astonished." 

"  I  did  not  say  that  I  was  an  American  girl.  " 

"Oh,  that's  a  fact.  I  took  you  for  one,  how- 
ever." 

They  were  both  of  them  so  intent  on  their  con- 
versation in  walking  up  the  narrow  way  between 
the  long  table  and  the  short  ones,  that  neither  of 
them  noticed  the  handsome  blond  young  lady 
standing  beside  her  chair  looking  at  them.  It  was 
only  when  that  young  lady  said,  "Why,  Mr.  Mor- 
ris, is  this  you?"  and  when  that  gentleman  jumped 
as  if  a  cannon  had  been  fired  beside  him,  that  eithei 
of  them  noticed  their  fair  fellow-traveler. 

*'Y— es,"  stammered  Morris,  "it  is  I" 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


39 


The  young  lady  smiled  sweetly  and  held  out  her 
hand,  which  Morris  took  in  an  awkward  way. 

"I  was  just  going  to  ask  you,"  she  said,  "when 
you  came  aboard.  How  ridiculous  that  would  have 
been !  Of  course,  you  have  been  here  all  the  time. 
Isn't  it  curious  that  we  have  not  met  each  other? 
We  of  all  persons  in  the  world." 

Morris,  who  had  somewhat  recovered  his  breath, 
looked  steadily  at  her  as  she  said  this,  and  her  eys, 
after  encountering  his  gaze  for  a  moment,  sank  to 
the  floor. 

Miss  Earle,  who  had  waited  for  a  moment  ex- 
pecting that  Morris  would  introduce  her,  but  seeing 
that  he  had,  for  the  time  being,  apparently  forgot- 
ten everything  on  earth,  quietly  left  them,  and  took 
her  place  at  the  breakfast  table.  The  blond  young 
lady  looked  up  again  at  Mr.  Morris,  and  said : 

"I  am  afraid  I  am  keeping  you  from  breakfast." 

"Oh,  that  doesn't  matter." 

"I  am  afraid,  then,"  she  continued  sweetly,  "that 
I  am  keeping  you  from  your  very  interesting  table 
companion." 

"Yes,  that  does  matter,"  said  Morris,  looking  at 
her.  "I  wish  you  good-morning,  madam."  And 
with  that  he  left  her  and  took  his  place  at  the  head 
of  the  small  table. 

There  was  a  vindictive  look  in  the  blond  young 


40 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


\ 

I 


lady's  pretty  eyes  as  she  sank  into  her  own  seat  at 
the  breakfast  table. 

Miss  Earle  had  noticed  the  depressing  effect 
which  even  the  sight  of  the  blond  lady  exercised 
on  Morris  the  day  before,  and  she  looked  forward, 
therefore,  to  rather  an  uncompanionable  breakfast. 
She  was  surprised,  however,  to  see  that  Morris  had 
an  air  of  jaunty  joviality,  which  she  could  not  help 
thinking  was  rather  forced. 

"Now,"  he  said,  as  he  sat  down  on  the  sofa  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  "I  think  it's  about  time  for  us  to 
begin  our  chutney  fight." 

"Our  what?"  asked  the  young  lady,  looking  up  at 
him  with  open  eyes. 

"Is  it  possibly,"  he  said,  "that  you  have  crossed 
the  ocean  and  never  engragcd  in  the  chutney  fight? 
I  always  have  it  on  this  line." 

"I  am  sorry  to  appear  so  ignorant,"  said  Miss 
Earle,  "but  I  have  to  confess  I  do  not  know  what 
chutney  is." 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  returned  the  young  man. 
"  It  delights  me  to  find  in  your  nature  certain  desert 
spots — certain  irreclaimable  lands,  I  might  say — of 
ignorance." 

"I  do  not  see  why  a  person  should  rejoice  in  the 
misfortunes  of  another  person,"  replied  the  young 
lady. 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


41 


"Oh,  don't  you?  Why,  it  is  the  most  natural 
thing  in  the  world.  There  is  nothing  that  we  so 
thoroughly  dislike  as  a  person,  either  lady  or  gen- 
tleman, who  is  perfect.  I  suspect  you  rather  have 
the  advantage  of  me  in  the  reading  of  books,  but  I 
certainly  have  the  advantage  of  you  on  chutney, 
and  I  intend  to  make  the  most  of  it." 

"I  am  sure  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  be  enlightened, 
and  to  confess  my  ignorance  whenever  it  is  neces- 
sary, and  that,  I  fear,  will  be  rather  often.  So  if 
our  acquaintance  continues  until  the  end  of  the 
voyage,  you  will  be  in  a  state  of  perpetual  delight." 

"Well,  that's  encouraging.  You  will  be  pleased 
to  learn  that  chutney  is  a  sauce,  an  Indian  sauce, 
and  on  this  line,  somehow  or  other,  they  never  have 
more  than  one  or  two  bottles.  I  do  not  know 
whether  it  is  very  expensive.  I  presume  it  is. 
Pechaps  it  is  because  there  is  very  little  demand  for 
it,^  great  number  of  people  not  knowing  what 
chutney  is." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  young  lady,  "I  am  glad  to 
find  that  I  am  in  the  majority,  at  least,  even  in  the 
matter  of  ignorance." 

"Well,  as  I  was  saying,  chutney  is  rather  a  seduc- 
tive sauce.  You  may  not  like  it  at  first,  but  it 
grows  on  you.  You  acquire,  as  it  were,  the  chut- 
ney habit.     An  old  Indian  traveler,  whom  I  had  the 


1 1 


42 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


pleasure  of  crossing  with  once,  and  who  sat  at  the 
same  table  with  me,  demanded  chutney.  He  in- 
itiated me  into  the  mysteries  of  chutney,  and  he 
had  a  chutney  fight  all  the  way  across." 

"I  still  have  to  confess  that  I  do  not  see  what 
there  is  to  fight  about  in  the  matter  of  chutney." 

"Don't  you?  Well,  you  shall  soon  have  a  practi- 
cal illustration  of  the  terrors  of  a  chutney  fight. 
Steward,"  called  Morris,  "just  bring  me  a  bottle  of 
chutney,  will  you?" 

"Chutney,  sir?"  asked  the  steward,  as  if  he  had 
never  heard  the  word  before. 

"Yes,  chutney.     Chutney  sauce." 

"I  am  afraid,  sir,"  said  e  steward,  "that  we 
haven't  any  chutney  sauce. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  have.  I  see  a  bottle  there  on  the 
captain's  table.  I  think  there  is  a  second  bottle  at 
the  smaller  table.  Just  two  doors  up  the  street. 
Have  the  kindness  to  bring  it  to  me." 

The  steward  left  for  the  chutney,  and  Morris 
looking  after  him,  saw  that  there  was  some  discus- 
sion between  him  and  the  steward  of  the  other 
table.  Finally,  Morris's  steward  came  back  and 
said,  "I  am  very  sorry,  sir,  but  they  are  using  the 
chutney  at  that  table." 

"Now  look  here,  steward,"  said  Morris,  "you 
know  that  you  are  here  to  take  care  of  us,  and  that 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


43 


;us- 

Iher 

ind 

Ithe 


lat 


I'; 


at  the  end  of  the  voyage  I  will  take  care  of  you. 
Don't  make  any  mistake  about  that.  You  under- 
stand me?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  do,"  said  the  steward.  "Thank  you, 
sir." 

"All  right,"  replied  Morris.  "Now  you  under- 
stand that  I  want  chutney,  and  chutney  I  am  going 
to  have." 

Steward  number  one  waited  until  steward  num- 
ber two  had  disappeared  after  another  order,  and 
then  he  deftly  reached  over,  took  the  chutney 
sauce,  and  placed  it  before  Mr.  Morris. 

"Now,  Miss  Earle,  I  hope  that  you  will  like  this 
chutney  sauce.  You  see  there  is  some  difficulty  in 
getting  it,  and  that  of  itself  ought  to  be  a  strong 
recommendation  for  it." 

"It  is  a  little  too  hot  to  suit  me,"  answered  the 
young  lady,  trying  the  Indian  sauce,  "still,  there  is 
a  pleasant  flavor  about  it  that  I  like." 

"Oh,  you  are  all  right,"  said  Morris  jauntily; 
"you  will  be  a  victim  of  the  chutney  habit  before 
two  days.  People  who  dislike  it  at  first  are  its 
warmest  advocates  afterward.  I  use  the  word 
warmest  without  any  allusion  to  the  sauce  itself, 
you  know.     I  shall  now  try  some  myself." 

As  he  looked  round  the  table  for  the  large  bottle, 
he  saw  that  it  had  been  whisked  away  by  steward 


'it 

■ifiii; 


44 


IN  A   STEAMER   CHAIR. 


\ 


\ 

I 


number  two,  and  now  stood  on  the  other  table. 
Miss  Earle  laughed. 

"Oh,  I  shall  have  it  in  a  moment,"  said  the  young 
man. 

"Do  you  think  it  is  worth  while?" 

"Worth  while?  Why,  that  is  the  excitement  of 
a  chutney  fight.  It  is  not  that  we  care  for  chutney 
at  all,  but  that  we  simply  are  bound  to  have  it.  If 
there  were  a  bottle  of  chutney  at  every  table,  the 
delights  of  chutney  would  be  gone.  Steward,"  said 
Morris,  as  that  functionary  appeared,  "the  chutney, 
please." 

The  steward  cast  a  rapid  glance  at  the  other 
table,  and  waited  until  steward  number  two  had 
disappeared.  Then  Morris  had  his  chutney.  Stew- 
ard number  two,  seeing  his  precious  bottle  gone, 
tried  a  second  time  to  stealthily  obtain  possession 
of  it,  but  Morris  said  to  him  in  a  pleasant  voice, 
"That's  all  right,  steward,  we  are  through  with  the 
chutney.  Take  it  along,  please.  So  that,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Morris,  as  Miss  Earle  rose  from  the 
table,  *'that  is  your  first  experience  of  a  chutney 
fight — one  of  the  delights  of  ocean  travel." 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


45 


FOURTH  DAY. 


Mr.  George  Morris  began  to  find  his  "early 
coffees,"  as  he  called  them,  very  delightful.  It  was 
charming  to  meet  a  pretty  and  entertaining  young 
lady  every  morning  early  when  they  had  the  deck 
practically  to  themselves. 

The  fourth  day  was  bright  and  clear,  and  the  sea 
was  reasonably  calm.  For  the  first  time  he  was  up 
earlier  than  Miss  Earle,  and  he  paced  the  deck  with 
great  impatience,  waiting  for  her  appearance.  He 
wondered  who  and  what  she  was.  He  had  a  dim, 
hazy  idea  that  some  time  before  in  his  life  he  had 
met  her,  and  probably  had  been  acquainted  with 
her.  What  an  embarrassing  thing  it  would  be,  he 
thought,  if  he  had  really  known  her  years  before, 
and  had  forgotten  her,  while  she  knew  who  he  was, 
and  had  remembered  him.  He  thought  of  how 
accurately  she  had  guessed  his  position  in  life — if  it 
was  a  guess.  He  remembered  that  often,  when  he 
looked  at  her,  he  felt  certain  he  had  known  her  and 
spoken  to  her  before.  He  placed  the  two  steamer 
chairs  in  position,  so  that  Miss  Earle's  chair  would 
be  ready  for  her  when  she  did  appear,  and  then,  as 
he  walked  up  and  down  the  deck  waiting  for  her,  he 
began  to  wonder  at  himself.  If  anyone  had  told 
him  when  he  left   New  York  that,  within  three  or 


46 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


four  days  he  could  feel  such  an  interest  in  a  person 
who  previous  to  that  time  had  been  an  utter  stran- 
ger to  him,  he  would  have  laughed  scornfully  and 
bitterly  at  the  idea.  As  it  was,  when  he  thought  of 
all  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  the  case,  he 
laughed  aloud,  but  neither  scornfully  nor  bitterly. 

"You  must  be  having  very  pleasant  thoughts,  Mr. 
Morris,"  said  Miss  Earle,  as  she  appeared  with  a 
bright  shawl  thrown  over  her  shoulders,  instead  of 
the  long  cloak  that  had  incased  her  before,  and 
with  a  Tam  o*  Shanter  set  jauntily  on  her  black, 
curly  hair. 

"You  are  right,"  said  Morris,  taking  off  his  cap, 
"I  was  thinking  of  you." 

"Oh,  indeed,"  replied  the  young  lady,  "that's 
why  you  laughed,  was  it?  I  may  say  that  I  do  not 
relish  being  laughed  at  in  my  absence,  or  in  my 
presence  either,  for  that  matter." 

"Oh,  I  assure  you  I  wasn't  laughing  at  you.  I 
laughed  with  pleasure  to  see  you  come  on  deck.  I 
have  been  waiting  for  you." 

"Now,  Mr.  Morris,  that  from  a  man  who  boasts 
of  his  truthfulness  is  a  little  too  much.  You  did 
not  see  me  at  all  until  I  spoke ;  and  if,  as  you  say, 
you  were  thinking  of  me,  you  will  have  to  explain 
that  laugh." 


(<■ 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR.  47 

*I  will  explain  it  before  the  voyage  is  over,  Miss 
Earle.     I  can't  explain  it  just  now." 

"Ah,  then  you  admit  you  were  untruthful  when 
you  said  you  laughed  because  you  saw  me?" 

"I  may  as  well  admit  it.  You  seem  to  know 
things  intuitively.  I  am  not  nearly  as  truthful  a 
person  as  I  thought  I  was  until  I  met  you.  You 
seem  the  very  embodiment  of  truth.  If  I  had  not 
met  you,  I  imagine  I  should  have  gone  through  life 
thinking  myself  one  of  the  most  truthful  men  in 
New  York." 

"Perhaps  that  would  not  be  saying  very  much  for 
yourself,"  replied  the  young  lady,  as  she  took  her 
place  in  the  steamer  chair. 

"I  am  sorry  you  have  such  a  poor  opinion  of  us 
New  Yorkers,"  said  the  young  man.  "Why  are 
you  so  late  this  morning?" 

"1  am  not  late;  it  is  you  who  are  early.  This  is 
my  usual  time.  I  have  been  a  very  punctual  per- 
son all  my  life." 

"There  you  go  again,  speaking  as  if  you  were 
ever  so  old." 

"I  am." 

"Well,  I  don't  believe  it.  I  wish,  however,  that 
you  had  confidence  enough  in  me  to  tell  me  some- 
thing  about  yourself.     Do  you  know,  I  was  think- 


I 


48 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


m 


.\  i^ 


ing  this  morning  that  I  had  met  you  before  some- 
where?    I  feel  almost  certain  I  have." 

"Well,  that  is  quite  possible,  you  know.  You  are 
a  New  Yorker,  and  I  have  lived  in  New  York  for  a 
great  number  of  years,  much  as  you  seem  to  dislike 
that  phrase." 

"New  York!  Oh,  that  is  like  saying  you  have 
lived  in  America  and  I  have  lived  in  America.  We 
might  live  for  hundreds  of  years  in  New  York  and 
never  meet  one  another!" 

"That  is  very  true,  except  that  the  time  is  a  little 
long." 

"Then  won*t  you  tell  me  something  about  your- 
self?" 

"No,  I  will  not." 

"Why?" 

"Why?  Well,  if  you  will  tell  me  why  you  have 
the  right  to  ask  such  a  question,  I  shall  answer 
why." 

"Oh,  if  you  talk  of  rights,  I  suppose  I  haven't 
the  right.  But  I  am  willing  to  tell  you  anything 
about  myself.  Now,  a  fair  exchange,  you 
know " 

"But  I  don't  wish  to  know  anything  about  you." 

"Oh,  thank  you." 

George  Morris's  face  clouded,  and  he  sat  silent 
for  a  few  moments. 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


49 


s 
i 


*'I  presume,"  he  said  again,  "that  you  think  me 
very  impertinent  ?" 

"Well,  frankly,  I  do." 

Morris  gazed  out  at  the  sea,  and  Miss  Earle 
opened  the  book  which  she  had  brought  with  her, 
and  began  to  read.  After  a  while  her  companion 
said : 

"I  think  that  you  are  a  little  too  harsh  with  me, 
Miss  Earle." 

The  young  lady  placed  her  finger  between  the 
leaves  of  the  book  and  closed  it,  looking  up  at  him 
with  a  frank,  calm  expression  in  her  dark  eyes,  but 
said  nothing. 

"You  see,  it's  like  this.  I  said  to  you  a  little 
while  since  that  I  seem  to  have  known  you  before. 
Now,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  was  thinking  of  when  you 
met  me  this  morning.  I  was  thinking  what  a  curi- 
ous thing  it  would  be  if  I  had  been  acquainted  with 
you  some  time  during  my  past  life,  and  had  forgot- 
ten you,  while  you  had  remembered  me." 

"That  was  very  flattering  to  me,"  said  the  young 
lady.     "I  don't  wonder  you  laughed." 

"That  is  why  1  did  not  wish  to  tell  you  what  I 
had  been  thinking  of — just  for  fear  that  you  would 
put  a  wrong  construction  on  it — as  you  have  done. 
But  now  you  can't  say  anything  much  harsher  to  me 
than  you  have  said,  and  so  I  tell  you  frankly  just  what 


1 


50  IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 

I  thought,  and  why  I  asked  you  those  questions 
which  you  seem  to  think  are  so  impertinent.  Be- 
sides this,  you  know,  a  sea  acquaintance  is  different 
from  any  other  acquaintance.  As  I  said  the  first 
time  I  spoke  to  you — or  the  second — there  is  no 
one  here  to  introduce  us.  On  land,  when  a  person 
is  introduced  to  another  person,  he  does  not  say, 
'Miss  Earle,  this  is  Mr.  Morris,  who  is  a  younger 
partner  in  the  dry-goods  house  of  So-and-so.*  He 
merely  says,  'Miss  Earle,  Mr.  Morris,*  and  there  it 
is.  If  you  want  to  find  anything  out  about  him 
you  can  ask  your  introducer  or  ask  your  friends, 
and  you  can  find  out.  Now,  on  shipboard  it  is 
entirely  different.  Suppose,  for  instance,  that  I  did 
not  tell  you  who  I  am,  and — if  you  will  pardon  me 
for  suggesting  such  an  absurd  supposition — imagine 
that  you  wanted  to  find  out,  how  could  you  do  it?" 
Miss  Earle  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then 
she  answered : 

"I  would  ask  that  blond  young  lady.'* 
This  reply  was  so  utterly  unexpected  by  Morris 
that  he  looked  at  her  with  wide  eyes,  the  picture  of 
a  man  dumfounded.     At  that  moment  the  smoking, 
room  steward  came  up  to  them  and  said : 
"Will  you  have  your  coffee  now,  sir?" 
"Coffee!**  cried  Morris,  as  if  he  had  never  heard 
the  word  before.    "Coffee!** 


i 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR.  5 1 

"Yes,"  answered  Miss  Earle  sweetly,  "we  will 
have  the  coffee  now,  if  you  please.  You  will  have 
a  cup  with  me,  will  you  not,  Mr.  Morris?" 
"Yes,  I  will,  if  it  is  not  too  much  trouble." 
"Oh,  it  is  no  trouble  to  me,"  said  the  young  lady; 
"some  trouble  to  the  steward,  but  I  believe  even 
for  him  that  it  is  not  a  trouble  that  cannot  be 
recompensed." 

Morris  sipped  his  coffee  in  silence.  Every  now 
and  then  Miss  Earle  stole  a  quiet  look  at  him,  and 
apparently  was  waiting  for  him  to  again  resume  the 
conversation.  This  he  did  not  seem  in  a  hurry  to 
do.     At  last  she  said : 

"Mr.  Morris,  suppose  we  were  on  shipboard  and 
that  we  had  become  acquainted  without  the 
friendly  intervention  of  an  introducer,  and  suppose, 
if  such  a  supposition  is  at  all  within  the  bounds  of 
probability,  that  you  wanted  to  find  out  something 
about  me,  how  would  you  go  about  it?" 
"How  would  I  go  about  it?" 
"Yes.     How?" 

"I  would  go  about  it  in  what  would  be  the  worst 
possible  way.  I  would  frankly  ask  you,  and  you 
would  as  frankly  snub  me." 

"Suppose,  then,  while  declining  to  tell  you  any- 
thing about  myself,  I  were  to  refer  you  to  some- 
body  who  would   give   you    the   information  you 


\ 


B^ 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


:  I 


I 


desire;  would  you  take  the  opportunity  of  learn- 
ing?" 

"I  would  prefer  to  hear  from  yourself  anything  I 
desired  to  learn." 

"Now,  that  is  very  nicely  said,  Mr.  Morris,  and 
you  make  me  feel  almost  sorry  for  having  spoken  to 
you  as  I  did.  Still,  if  you  really  want  to  find  out 
something  about  me,  I  shall  tell  you  someone 
whom  you  can  ask,  and  who  will  doubtless  answer 
you." 

"Who  is  that?    The  captain?" 

"No.  It  is  the  same  person  to  whom  I  should 
go  if  I  wished  to  have  information  of  you — the 
blond  young  lady." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you  know  her?"  asked  the 
astonished  young  man. 

"I  said  nothing  of  the  sort." 

"Well,  do  you  know  her?" 

"No,  I  do  not." 

"Do  you  know  her  name?" 

"No,  I  do  not  even  know  her  name." 

"Have  you  ever  met  her  before  you  came  on 
board  this  ship?" 

"Yes,  I  have." 

"Well,  if  that  isn't  the  most  astonishing  thing  I 
ever  heard !" 

"I  don't  see  why  it  is.    You  say  you  thought 


IN  A    STEAAfER   CHAIR. 


53 


you  had  met  me  before.  As  you  are  a  man,  no 
doubt  you  have  forgotten  it.  I  say  I  think  I  have 
met  that  young  lady  before.  As  she  is  a  woman,  I 
don't  think  she  will  have  forgotten.  If  you  have 
any  interest  in  the  matter  at  all  you  might  inquire." 

"I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort." 

"Well,  of  course,  I  said  I  thought  you  hadn't 
very  much  interest.     I  only  supposed  the  case." 

"It  is  not  that  I  have  not  the  interest,  but  it  is 
that  I  prefer  to  go  to  the  person  who  can  best 
answer  my  question  if  she  chooses  to  do  so.  If  she 
doesn't  choose  to  answer  me,  then  I  don't  choose 
to  learn." 

"Now,  I  like  that  ever  so  much,"  said  the  young 
lady;  "if  you  will  get  me  another  cup  of  coffee  I 
shall  be  exceedingly  obliged  to  you.  My  excuse  is 
that  these  cups  are  very  small,  and  the  coffee  is 
very  good." 

"I  am  sure  you  don't  need  any  excuse,"  replied 
Morris,  springing  to  his  feet,  "and  I  am  only  too 
happy  to  be  your  steward  without  the  hope  of  the 
fee  at  the  end  of  the  voyage." 

When  he  returned  she  said,  "I  think  we  had  bet- 
ter  stop  the  personal  conversation  into  which  we 
have  drifted.  It  isn't  at  all  pleasant  to  me,  and  I 
don't  think  it  is  very  agreeable  to  you.  Now,  I 
intended  this  morning  to  give  you  a  lesson  on 


1 


54 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


m 


American  literature.  I  feel  that  you  need  enlight- 
ening on  the  subject,  and  that  you  have  neglected 
your  opportunities,  as  most  New  York  men  do,  and 
so  I  thought  you  would  be  glad  of  a  lesson  or 
two." 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  of  it  indeed.  I  don't  know 
what  our  opportunities  are,  but  if  most  New  York 
men  are  like  me  I  imagine  a  great  many  of  them  are 
in  the  same  fix.  We  have  very  little  time  for  the 
study  of  the  literature  of  any  country." 

"And  perhaps  very  little  inclination." 

"Well,  you  know.  Miss  Earle,  there  is  some  ex- 
cuse for  a  busy  man.     Don't  you  think  there  is?" 

"I  don't  think  there  is  very  much.  Who  in 
America  is  a  busier  man  than  Mr.  Gladstone?  Yet 
he  reads  nearly  everything,  and  is  familiar  with 
almost  any  subject  you  can  mention." 

"Oh,  Gladstone!  Well,  he  is  a  man  of  a  million. 
But  you  take  the  average  New  York  man.  He  is 
worried  in  business,  and  kept  on  the  keen  jump  all 
the  year  round.  Then  he  has  a  vacation,  say  for  a 
couple  of  weeks  or  a  month,  in  summer,  and  he 
goes  off  into  the  woods  with  his  fishing  kit,  or 
canoeing  outfit,  or  his  amateur  photographic  set,  or 
whatever  the  tools  of  his  particular  fad  may  be. 
He  goes  to  a  book  store  and  buys  up  a  lot  of  paper- 
covered  novels.    There  is  no  use  of  buying  an  ex- 


IN  A   STEAMER   CHAIR.  55 

pensive  book,  because  he  would  spoil  it  before  he 
gets  back,  and  he  would  be  sure  to  leave  it  in  some 
shanty.  So  he  takes  those  paper-covered  abomina- 
tions, and  you  will  find  torn  copies  of  them  scat- 
tered all  through  the  Adirondacks,  and  down  the 
St.  Lawrence,  and  everywhere  else  that  tourists 
congregate.  I  always  tell  the  book  store  man  to 
give  me  the  worst  lot  of  trash  he  has  got,  and  he 
does.  Now,  what  is  that  book  you  have  with  you  ?" 
"This  is  one  of  Mr.  Howells's  novels.  You  will 
admit,  at  least,  that  you  have  heard  of  Howells,  I 
suppose?" 

"Heard  of  him?  Oh,  yes;  I  have  read  some  of 
Howells's  books.  I  am  not  as  ignorant  as  you  seem 
to  think." 

"What  have  you  read  of  Mr.  Howells's?" 
"Well,  I  read  'The  American';  I  don't  remember 
the  others." 

"  The  American !'     That  is  by  Henry  James." 

"Is  it?  Well,  I  knew  that  it  was  by  either  How- 
ells or  James,  I  forgot  which.  They  didn't  write  a 
book  together,  did  they?" 

"Well,  not  that*  I  know  of.  Why,  the  depth  of 
your  ignorance  about  American  literature  is  some- 
thing appalling.  You  talk  of  it  so  jauntily  that 
you  evidently  have  no  idea  of  it  yourself." 

"I  wish  you  would  take  me  in  hand,  Miss  Earle. 


56 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


Isn't  there  any  sort  of  condensed  version  that  a 
person  could  get  hold  of?  Couldn't  you  give  me  a 
synopsis  of  what  is  written,  so  that  I  might  post 
myself  up  in  literature  without  going  to  the  trouble 
of  reading  the  books?" 

"The  trouble!  Oh,  if  that  is  the  way  you  speak, 
then  your  case  is  hopeless !  I  suspected  it  for  some 
time,  but  now  I  am  certain.  The  trouble !  The 
delight  of  reading  a  new  novel  by  Howells  is  some- 
thing that  you  evidently  have  not  the  remotest  idea 
of.  Why,  I  don't  know  what  I  would  give  to  have 
with  me  a  novel  of  Howells's  that  I  had  not 
read." 

"Goodness  gracious!  You  don't  mean  to  say 
that  you  have  read  everything  he  has  written  ?" 

"Certainly  I  have,  and  I  am  reading  one  now  that 
is  coming  out  in  the  magazine;  and  I  don't  know 
what  I  shall  do  if  I  am  not  able  to  get  the  maga- 
zine when  I  go  to  Europe." 

"Oh,  you  can  get  them  over  there  right  enough, 
and  cheaper  than  you  can  in  America.  They  pub- 
lish them  over  there." 

"Do  they?    Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.'* 

"You  see,  there  is  something  about  American  lit- 
erature that  you  are  not  acquainted  with,  the  publi- 
cation of  our  magazines  in  England,  for  instanccc 
Ah,  there  is  the  breakfast  gong.     Well,  we  will  have 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


57 


to  postpone  our  lesson  in  literature  until  afterward. 
Will  you  be  up  here  after  breakfast?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so." 

"Well,  we  will  leave  our  chairs  and  rugs  just 
where  they  are.  I  will  take  your  book  down  for 
you.  Books  have  the  habit  of  disappearing  if  they 
are  left  around  on  shipboard." 

After  breakfast  Mr.  Morris  went  to  the  smoking 
room  to  enjoy  his  cigar,  and  there  was  challenged 
to  a  game  of  cards.  He  played  one  game ;  but  his 
mind  was  evidently  not  on  his  amusement,  so  he 
excused  himself  from  any  further  dissipation  in  that 
line,  and  walked  out  on  deck.  The  promise  of  the 
morning  had  been  more  than  fulfilled  in  the  day, 
and  the  warm  sunlight  and  mild  air  had  brought  on 
deck  many  who  had  not  been  visible  up  to  that 
time.  There  was  a  long  row  of  muflfled-up  figures 
on  steamer  chairs,  and  the  deck  steward  was  kept 
busy  hurrying  here  and  there  attending  to  the 
wants  of  the  passengers.  Nearly  everyone  had  a 
book,  but  many  of  the  books  were  turned  face 
downward  on  the  steamer  rugs,  while  the  owners 
either  talked  to  those  next  them,  or  gazed  idly  out 
at  the  blue  ocean.  In  the  long  and  narrow  open 
space  between  the  chairs  and  the  bulwarks  of  the 
ship,  the  energetic  pedestrians  were  walking  up  and 
down. 


58 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR, 


At  this  stage  of  the  voyage  most  of  the  passen- 
gers had  found  congenial  companions,  and  nearly 
everybody  was  acquainted  with  everybody  else. 
Morris  walked  along  in  front  of  the  reclining  pas- 
sengers, scanning  each  one  eagerly  to  find  the  per- 
son he  wanted,  but  she  was  not  there.  Remember- 
ing then  that  the  chairs  had  been  on  the  other  side 
of  the  ship,  he  continued  his  walk  around  the  wheel 
house,  and  there  he  saw  Miss  Earle,  and  sitting 
beside  her  was  the  blond  young  lady  talking  viva- 
ciously, while  Miss  Earle  listened. 

Morris  hesitated  for  a  moment,  but  before  he 
could  turn  back  the  young  lady  sprang  to  her  feet, 
and  said : 

"Oh,  Mr.  Morris,  am  I  sitting  in  your  chair?" 

"What  makes  you  think  it  is  my  chair?"  asked 
that  gentleman,  not  in  the  most  genial  tone  of 
voice. 

"I  thought  so,"  replied  the  young  lady,  with  a 
laugh,  "because  it  was  near  Miss  Earle." 

Miss  Earle  did  not  look  at  all  pleased  at  this 
remark.  She  colored  slightly,  and,  taking  the  open 
book  from  her  lap,  began  to  read. 

"You  are  quite  welcome  to  the  chair,"  replied 
Morris,  and  the  moment  the  words  were  spoken  he 
felt  that  somehow  it  was  one  of  those  things  he 
would  rather  have  left  unsaid,  as  far  as  Miss  Earle 


I 


I 


1     ■* 


m 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


59 


was  concerned.  "I  beg  that  you  will  not  disturb 
yourself,"  he  continued ;  and,  raising  his  hat  to  the 
lady,  he  continued  his  walk. 

A  chance  acquaintance  joined  him,  changing  his 
step  to  suit  that  of  Morris,  and  talked  with  him  on 
the  prospects  of  the  next  year  being  a  good  busi- 
ness season  in  the  United  States.  Morris  answered 
rather  absent-mindedly,  and  it  was  nearly  lunch 
time  before  he  had  an  opportunity  of  going  back  to 
see  whether  or  not  Miss  Earle's  companion  had  left. 
When  he  reached  the  spot  where  they  had  been 
sitting  he  found  things  the  very  reverse  of  what  he 
had  hoped.  Miss  Earle's  chair  was  vacant,  but 
her  companion  sat  there,  idly  turning  over  the 
leaves  of  the  book  that  Miss  Earle  had  been  read- 
ing. 

"Won't  you  sit  down,  Mr.  Morris?"  said  the 
young  woman,  looking  up  at  him  with  a  winning 
smile.  "Miss  Earle  has  gone  to  dress  for  lunch.  I 
should  do  the  same  thing,  but,  alas!  I  am  too  indo- 
lent." 

Morris  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  sat 
down  beside  her. 

"Why  do  you  act  so  perfectly  horrid  to  me?" 
asked  the  young  lady,  closing  the  book  sharply. 

"I  was  not  aware  that  I  acted  horridly  to  any- 
body," answered  Morris. 


6o 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


"You  know  well  enough  that  you  have  been  try- 
ing your  very  best  to  avoid  me." 

"I  think  you  are  mistaken.  I  seldom  try  to 
avoid  anyone,  and  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  try 
to  avoid  you.     Do  you  know  of  any  reason?" 

The  young  lady  blushed  and  looked  down  at  her 
book,  whose  leaves  she  again  began  to  turn. 

"I  thought,"  she  said  at  last,  "that  you  might 
have  some  feeling  against  me,  and  I  have  no  doubt 
you  judge  me  very  harshly.  You  never  did  make 
any  allowances." 

Morris  gave  a  little  laugh  that  was  half  a  sneer. 

"Allowances?"  he  said. 

"Yes,  allowances.  You  know  you  always  were 
harsh  with  me,  George,  always."  And  as  she 
looked  up  at  him  her  blue  eyes  were  filled  with 
tears,  and  there  was  a  quiver  at  the  corner  of  her 
mouth. 

"What  a  splendid  actress  you  would  make, 
Blanche,"  said  the  young  man,  calling  her  by  her 
name  for  the  first  time. 

She  gave  him  a  quick  look  as  he  did  so.  "Ac- 
tress!" she  cried.  *'No  one  was  ever  less  an  actress 
than  I  am,  and  you  know  that." 

"Oh,  well,  what's  the  use  of  us  talking?  It's  all 
right.     We  made  a  little  mistake,  that's  all,  and 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


6i 


people  often  make  mistakes  in  this  life,  don't  they, 
Blanche?" 

"Yes,"  sobbed  that  young  lady,  putting  her 
dainty  silk  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

"Now,  for  goodness'  sake,"  said  the  young  man, 
"don't  do  that.  People  will  think  I  am  scolding 
you,  and  certainly  there  is  no  one  in  this  world  who 
has  less  right  to  scold  you  than  I  have." 

"I  thought,"  murmured  the  young  lady,  from 
behind  her  handkerchief,  "that  we  might  at  least 
be  friends.  I  didn't  think  you  could  ever  act  so 
harshly  toward  me  as  you  have  done  for  the  past 
few  days." 

"Act?"  cried  the  young  man.  "Bless  me,  I 
haven't  acted  one  way  or  the  other.  I  simply 
haven't  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  till  the 
other  evening,  or  morning,  whichever  it  was.  I 
have  said  nothing,  and  done  nothing.  I  don't  see 
how  I  could  be  accused  of  acting,  or  of  anything 
else." 

"I  think,"  sobbed  the  young  lady,  "that  you 
might  at  least  have  spoken  kindly  to  me." 

"Good  gracious!"  cried  Morris,  starting  up,  "here 
comes  Miss  Earle.  For  Heaven's  sake  put  up  that 
handkerchief." 

But  Blanche  merely  sank  her  face  lower  in   it, 


I 


62 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


Ml 


while  silent  sobs  shook  her  somewhat  slendei 
form. 

Miss  Earle  stood  for  a  moment  amazed  as  she 
looked  at  Morris's  flushed  face,  and  at  the  bowed 
head  of  the  young  lady  beside  him ;  then,  without  a 
wordf  she  turned  and  walked  away. 

*'I  wish  to  goodness,"  said  Morris  harshly,  "that 
if  you  are  going  to  have  a  fit  of  crying  you  would 
not  have  it  on  deck,  and  where  people  can  see  you." 

The  young  woman  at  once  straightened  up,  and 
flashed  a  look  at  him  in  which  there  were  no  traces 
of  her  former  emotion. 

"People!"  she  said  scornfully.  "Much  you  care 
about  people.  It  is  because  Miss  Katherine  Earle 
saw  me  that  you  are  annoyed.  You  are  afraid  that 
it  will  interfere  with  your  flirtation  with  her." 

"Flirtation?" 

"Yes,  flirtation.  Surely  it  can't  be  anything 
more  serious?" 

"Why  should  it  not  be  something  more  serious?" 
asked  Morris,  very  coldly. 

The  blue  eyes  opened  wide  in  apparent  astonish- 
ment. 

"Would  you  marry  her?"  she  said,  with  tellincj 
emphasis  upon  the  word. 

"Why  not?"  he  answered.  "Any  man  might  be 
proud  to  marry  a  lady  like  Miss  Earle." 


I  -1 


% 
% 


/A^  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


63 


"A  lady!     Much  of  a  lady  she  is.     Why,  she  is 
one  of  your  own  shopgirls.     You  know  it." 

"Shopgirls?"  cried  Morris,  in  astonishment. 
■    "Yes,  shopgirls.     You   don't  mean   to    say  that 
she  has  concealed  that  fact  from  you,  or  that  you 
didn't  know  it  by  seeing  her  in  the  store?" 

"A  shopgirl  in  my  store?"  he  murmured,  be- 
wildered.    "I  knew  I  had  seen  her  somewhere." 

Blanche  laughed  a  little  irritating  laugh. 

"What  a  splendid  item  it  would  make  for  the 
society  papers,"  she  said.  "The  junior  partner 
marries  one  of  his  own  shopgirls,  or,  worse  still, 
the  junior  partner  and  one  of  his  shopgirls  leave 
New  York  on  the  City  of  Buffalo,  2.nA  are  married 
in  England.  I  hope  that  the  reporters  will  not  get 
the  particulars  of  the  affair."  Then,  rising,  she  left 
the  amazed  young  man  to  his  thoughts. 

George  Morris  saw  nothing  more  of  Miss  Kath- 
erine  Earle  that  day. 

"I  wonder  what  that  vixen  has  said  to  her,"  he 
thought,  as  he  turned  in  for  the  night. 


FIFTH  DAY. 

In  the  early  morning  of  the  fifth  day  out,  George 
Morris  paced  the  deck  alone. 
"Shopgirl  or  not,"  he  had  said  to  himself,  "Miss 


64 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


Katherine  Earle  is  much  more  of  a  lady  than  the 
other  ever  was."  But  as  he  paced  the  deck,  and  as 
Miss  Earle  did  not  appear,  he  began  to  wonder 
more  and  more  what  had  been  said  to  her  in  the 
long  talk  of  yesterday  forenoon.  Meanwhile  Miss 
Earle  sat  in  her  own  stateroom,  thinking  over  the 
same  subject.  Blanche  had  sweetly  asked  her  per- 
mission to  sit  down  beside  her. 

"I  know  no  ladies  on  board,"  she  said,  "and  I 
think  I  have  met  you  before." 

"Yes,"  answered  Miss  Earle,  "I  think  we  have 
met  before." 

"How  good  of  you  to  have  remembered  me,"  said 
Blanche  kindly. 

"I  think,"  replied  Miss  Earle,  "that  it  is  more 
remarkable  that  you  should  remember  me  than  that 
I  should  remember  you.  Ladies  very  rarely  notice 
the  shopgirls  who  wait  upon  them." 

"You  seemed  so  superior  to  your  station,"  said 
Blanche,  "that  I  could  not  help  remembering  you, 
and  could  not  help  thinking  what  a  pity  it  was  you 
had  to  be  there." 

"I  do  not  think  that  there  is  anything  either 
superior  or  inferior  about  the  station.  It  is  quite 
as  honorable,  or  dishonorable,  whichever  it  may  be, 
as  any  other  branch  of  business.  I  cannot  see,  for 
instance,  why  my  station,  selling  ribbons  at  retail. 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


6S 


should  be  any  more  dishonorable  than  the  station 
of  the  head  of  the  firm,  who  merely  does  on  a  very 
large  scale  what  I  was  trying  to  do  for  him  on  a 
very  limited  scale." 

"Still,"  said  Blanche,  with  a  yawn,  "people  do 
not  all  look  upon  it  in  exactly  that  light." 

"  Hardly  any  two  persons  look  on  any  one  thing 
in  the  same  light.  I  hope  you  have  enjoyed  your 
voyage  so  far?" 

"I  have  not  enjoyed  it  very  much,"  replied  the 
young  lady  with  a  sigh. 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  that.  I  presume  your  father 
has  been  ill  most  of  the  way?" 

"My  father?"  cried  the  other,  looking  at  her 
questioner. 

"Yes,  I  did  not  see  him  at  the  table  since  the 
first  day." 

"Oh,  he  has  had  to  keep  his  room  almost  since 
we  left.     He  is  a  very  poor  sailor." 

"Then  that  must  make  your  voyage  rather  un- 
pleasant." 

The  blond  young  lady  made  no  reply,  but,  tak- 
ing up  the  book  which  Miss  Earle  was  reading, 
said,  "You  don't  find  Mr.  Morris  much  of  a  reader, 
I  presume?     He  used  not  to  be." 

"I  know  very  little  about  Mr.  Morris,"  said  Miss 
Earle  freezingly. 


66 


IN  A   STEAMER   CHAIR. 


V\ 


II 


ii  1 


"Why,  you  knew  him  before  you  came  on  board, 
did  you  not?"  questioned  the  other,  raising  her  eye- 
brows. 

"No,  I  did  not." 

"You  certainly  know  he  is  junior  partner  in  the 
establishment  where  you  work?" 

*'I  know  that,  yes,  but  I  had  never  spoken  to 
him  before  I  met  him  on  board  this  steamer." 

"Is  that  possible?  Might  I  ask  you  if  there  is 
any  probability  of  your  becoming  interested  in  Mr. 
Morris?" 

"Interested!    What  do  you  mean?" 

"Oh,  you  know  well  enough  what  I  mean.  We 
girls  do  not  need  to  be  humbugs  with  each  other, 
whatever  we  may  be  before  the  men.  When  a 
young  woman  meets  a  young  man  in  the  early 
morning,  and  has  coffee  with  him,  and  when  she 
reads  to  him,  and  tries  to  cultivate  his  literary 
tastes,  whatever  they  may  be,  she  certainly  shows 
some  interest  in  the  young  man,  don't  you  think 
so?" 

Miss  Earle  looked  for  a  moment  indignantly  at 
her  questioner.  "I  do  not  recognize  your  right," 
she  said,  "to  ask  me  such  a  question." 

"No?  Then  let  me  tell  you  that  I  have  every 
right  to  ask  it.  I  assure  you  that  I  have  thought 
over  the  matter  deeply  before  I  spoke.     It  seemed 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


67 


to  me  there  was  one  chance  in  a  thousand — only 
one  chance  in  a  thousand,  remember — that  you 
were  acting  honestly,  and  on  that  one  chance  I 
took  the  liberty  of  speaking  to  you.  The  right  I 
have  to  ask  such  a  question  is  this — Mr.  George 
Morris  has  been  engaged  to  me  for  several  years." 

"Engaged  to  you  f  " 

"Yes.     If  you  don't  believe  it,  ask  him !" 

"It  is  the  very  last  question  in  the  world  I  would 
ask  anybody." 

"Well,  then,  you  will  have  to  take  my  word  for 
it.  I  hope  you  are  not  very  shocked,  Miss  Earle, 
to  hear  what  I  have  had  to  tell  you." 

"Shocked?  Oh,  dear,  no.  Why  should  I  be? 
It  is  really  a  matter  of  no  interest  to  me,  I  assure 
you." 

"Well,  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  I  did 
not  know  but  you  might  have  become  more  inter- 
ested in  Mr.  Morris  than  you  would  care  to  own. 
I  think  myself  that  he  is  quite  a  fascinating  young 
gentleman ;  but  I  thought  it  only  just  to  you  that 
you  should  know  exactly  how  matters  stood." 

"I  am  sure  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

This  much  of  the  conversation  Miss  Earle  had 
thought  over  in  her  own  room  that  morning.  "Did 
it  make  a  difference  to  her  or  not?"  that  was  the 
question  she  was  asking  herself.     The  information 


1 1 


68 


/AT  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


\l 


if' 


1 

V 


had  certainly  affected  her  opinion  of  Mr.  Morris, 
and  she  smiled  to  herself  rather  bitterly  as  she 
thought  of  his  claiming  to  be  so  exceedingly  truth- 
ful. Miss  Earle  did  not,  however,  go  up  on  deck 
until  the  breakfast  gong  had  rung. 

"Good-morning,"  said  Morris,  as  he  took  his 
place  at  the  little  table.  "I  was  like  the  boy  on 
the  burning  deck  this  morning,  when  all  but  he  had 
fled.  I  was  very  much  disappointed  that  you  did 
not  come  up,  and  have  your  usual  cup  of  coffee." 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  that,"  said  Miss  Earle;  "if  I 
had  known  I  was  disappointing  anybody  I  should 
have  been  there." 

"Miss  Katherine,"  he  said,  "you  are  a  humbug. 
You  knew  very  well  that  I  would  be  disappointed  if 
you  did  not  come." 

The  young  lady  looked  up  at  him,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment  she  thought  of  telling  him  that  her  name  was 
Miss  Earle,  but  for  some  reason  she  did  not  do  so. 

"I  want  you  to  promise  now,"  he  continued, 
"that  to-morrow  morning  you  will  be  on  deck  as 
usual." 

"Has  it  become  a  usual  thing,  then?" 

"Well,  that's  what  I  am  trying  to  make  it,"  he 
answered.     "Will  you  promise?" 

"Yes,  I  promise." 

"Very    well,   then,   I   look   on   that    as    settled. 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR, 


69 


Now,  about  to-day.  What  are  you  going  to  do 
with  yourself  after  breakfast?" 

"Oh,  the  usual  thing,  I  suppose.  I  shall  sit  in 
my  steamer  chair  and  read  an  interesting  book." 

"And  what  is  the  interesting  book  for  to-day?" 

"  It  is  a  little  volume  by  Henry  James,  entitled 
•The  Siege  of  London'." 

"Why,  I  never  'knew  that  London  had  been 
besieged.     When  did  that  happen?" 

"Well,  I  haven't  got  very  far  in  the  book  yet,  but 
it  seems  to  have  happened  quite  recently,  within  a 
year  or  two,  I  think.  It  is  one  of  the  latest  of  Mr. 
James's  short  stories.     I  have  not  read  it  yet." 

"Ah!  then  the  siege  is  not  historical?" 

"Not  historical  further  than  Mr.  James  is  the 
historian." 

"Now,  Miss  Earle,  are  you  good  at  reading  out 
loud?" 

"No,  I  am  not." 

"Why,  how  decisively  you  say  that.  I  couldn't 
answer  like  that,  because  I  don't  know  whether  I 
am  or  not.  I  have  never  tried  any  of  it.  But  if 
you  will  allow  me,  I  will  read  that  book  out  to  you. 
I  should  like  to  have  the  good  points  indicated  to 
me,  and  also  the  defects." 

"There  are  not  likely  to  be  many  defects,"  said 
the  young  lady.      "Mr.  James  is  a  very  correct 


If 


u  ■ 

li 


I' 


i 


n^ 


'-'4 
■,  H 


70 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


writer.  But  I  do  not  care  either  to  read  aloud,  or 
have  a  book  read  to  me.  Besides,  we  disturb  the 
conversation  or  the  reading  of  anyone  else  who 
happens  to  sit  near  us.  I  prefer  to  enjoy  a  book  by 
reading  it  myself." 

"Ah,  I  see  you  are  resolved  cruelly  to  shut  me 
out  of  all  participation  in  your  enjoyment." 

"Oh,  not  at  all.  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  discuss 
the  book  with  you  afterward.  You  should  read  it 
for  yourself.  Then,  when  you  have  done  so,  we 
might  have  a  talk  on  its  merits  or  demerits,  if  you 
think,  after  you  have  read  it,  that  it  has  any," 

"Any  what?  merits  or  demerits?" 

"Well,  any  either." 

"No;  I  will  tell  you  a  better  plan  than  that.  I 
am  not  going  to  waste  my  time  reading  it." 

"Waste,  indeed !" 

"Certainly  waste.  Not  when  I  have  a  much 
better  plan  of  finding  out  what  is  in  the  book.  I 
am  going  to  get  you  to  tell  me  the  story  after  you 
have  read  it." 

"Oh,  indeed;  and  suppose  I  refuse?" 

"Will  you?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know.     I  only  said  suppose." 

"Then  I  shall  spend  the  rest  of  the  voyage  trying 
to  persuade  you." 

"I  am  not  very  easily  persuaded,  Mr.  Morris." 


.  .    (Si 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


n 


"I  believe  that,"  said  the  young  man.  "I  pre- 
sume I  may  sit  beside  you  while  you  are  reading 
your  book?" 

"You  certainly  may,  if  you  wish  to.  The  deck  is 
not  mine,  only  that  portion  of  it,  I  suppose,  which 
I  occupy  with  the  steamer  chair.  I  have  no  author- 
ity over  any  of  the  rest." 

"Now,  is  that  a  refusal  or  an  acceptance?" 

"  It  is  whichever  you  choose  to  think." 

"Well,  if  it  is  a  refusal,  it  is  probably  softening 
down  the  'No,'  but  if  it  is  an  acceptance  it  is  rather 
an  ungracious  one,  it  seems  to  me." 

"Well,  then,  I  shall  be  frank  with  you.  I  am 
very  much  interested  in  this  book.  I  should  a 
great  deal  rather  read  it  than  talk  to  you." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Miss  Earle.  There  can  be  no 
possible  doubt  about  your  meaning  now." 

"Well,  I  am  glad  of  that,  Mr.  Morris.  I  am 
always  pleased  to  think  that  I  can  speak  in  such  a 
way  as  not  to  be  misunderstood." 

"I  don't  see  any  possible  way  of  misunderstand- 
ing that.     I  wish  I  did." 

"And  then,  after  lunch,"  said  the  young  lady,  "I 
think  I  shall  finish  the  book  before  that  time — if  you 
care  to  sit  beside  me  or  to  walk  the  deck  with  me,  I 
shall  be  very  glad  to  tell  you  the  story." 

"Now,  that    is  perfectly    delightful,"   cried   the 


H 


72 


/AT  A    STEAMER  CHAIR, 


young  man.  "You  throw  a  person  down  into  the 
depths,  so  that  he  will  appreciate  all  the  more 
being  brought  up  into  the  light  again." 

"Oh,  not  at  all.  I  have  no  such  dramatic  ideas 
in  speaking  frankly  with  you.  I  merely  mean  that 
tills  forenoon  I  wish  to  have  to  myself,  because  I 
am  interested  in  my  book.  At  the  end  of  the  fore- 
noon I  shall  probably  be  tired  of  my  book  and  will 
prefer  a  talk  with  you.  1  don't  see  why  you  should 
think  it  odd  that  a  person  should  say  exactly  what 
a  person  means." 

"And  then  I  suppose  in  the  evening  you  will  be 
tired  of  talking  with  me,  and  will  want  to  take  up 
your  book  again." 

"Possibly." 

"And  if  you  are,  you  won't  hesitate  a  moment 
about  saying  so?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"Well,  you  are  a  decidedly  frank  young  lady. 
Miss  Earle;  and,  after  all,  I  don't  know  but  what  I 
like  that  sort  of  thing  best.  I  think  if  all  the 
world  were  honest  we  would  all  have  a  better  time 
of  it  here." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?" 

"Yes,  I  do." 

"You  believe  in  honesty,  then?" 

"Why,  certainly.     Have  you  seen  anything  in  my 


II 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


73 


conduct  or  bearing  that  would  induce  you  to  think 
that  I  did  not  believe  in  honesty?" 

"No,  I  can't  say  I  have.  Still,  honesty  is  such 
a  rare  quality  that  a  person  naturally  is  surprised 
when  one  comes  unexpectedly  upon  it." 

George  Morris  found  the  forenoon  rather  tedious 
and  lonesome.  He  sat  in  the  smoking  room,  and 
once  or  twice  he  ventured  near  where  Miss  Earle 
sat  engrossed  in  her  book,  in  the  hope  that  the  vol- 
ume might  have  been  put  aside  for  the  time,  and 
that  he  would  have  some  excuse  for  sitting  down 
and  talking  with  her.  Once,  as  he  passed,  she 
looked  up  with  a  bright  smile  and  nodded  to 
him. 

"Nearly  through?"  he  asked  dolefully. 
"With  'The  Siege  of  London'?"  she  asked. 
"Yes." 

"Oh,  I  am  through  that  long  ago,  and  have 
begun  another  story." 

"Now,  that  is  not  according  to  contract,"  claimed 
Morris.  "The  contract  was  that,  when  you  got 
through  with  The  Siege  of  London,*  you  were  to 
let  me  talk  with  you,  and  that  you  were  to  tell  me 
the  story." 

"That  was  not  my  interpretation  of  it.  Our  bar- 
gain, as  I  understood  it,  was  that  I  was  to  have  this 
forenoon  to  myself,  and  that  I  was  to  use  the  fore- 


1 


w 


;  I 


74 


/J\r  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


noon  for  reading.  I  believe  my  engagement  with 
you  began  in  the  afternoon." 

"I  wish  it  did,"  said  the  young  man,  with  a  wist- 
ful look. 

"You  wish  what?"  she  said,  glancing  up  at  him 
sharply. 

He  blushed  as  he  bent  over  toward  her  and 
whispered,  "That  our  engagement,  Miss  Katherine, 
began  in  the  afternoon," 

The  color  mounted  rapidly  into  her  cheeks,  and 
for  a  moment  George  Morris  thought  he  had  gone 
too  far.  It  seemed  as  if  a  sharp  reply  was  ready  on 
her  lips ;  but,  as  on  another  occasion,  she  checked 
it  and  said  nothing.  Then  she  opened  her  book  and 
began  to  read.     He  waited  for  a  moment  and  said : 

"Miss  Earle,  have  I  offended  you?" 

"Did  you  mean  to  give  offense?"  she  asked. 

"No,  certainly,  I  did  not." 

"Then  why  should  you  think  you  had  offended 
me?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know.     I "  he  stammered. 

Miss  Earle  looked  at  him  with  such  clear,  inno- 
cent, and  unwavering  eyes  that  the  young  man  felt 
that  he  could  neither  apologize  nor  make  an  expla- 
nation. 

"I'm  afraid,"  he  said,  "that  I  am  encroaching  on 
your  time." 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR.  75 

"Yes,  I  think  you  are;  that  is,  if  you  intend  to 
live  up  to  your  contract,  and  let  me  live  up  to 
mine.  You  have  no  idea  how  much  more  interest- 
ing this  book  is  than  you  are." 

"Why,  you  are  not  a  bit  flattering.  Miss  Earle, 
are  you  ?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  I  am.  Do  you  try  to  be?" 
"I'm  afraid  that  in  my  lifetime  I  have  tried  to 
be,  but  I  assure  you,  Miss  Earle,  that  I  don't  try  to 
be  flattering,  or  try  to  be  anything  but  what  I 
really  am  when  I  am  in  your  company.  To  tell  the 
truth,  I  am  too  much  afraid  of  you." 

Miss  Earle  smiled  and  went  on  with  her  reading, 
while  Morris  went  once  more  back  into  the  smok- 
ing  room. 

"Now  then,"  said  George  Morris,  when  lunch  was 
over,  "which  is  it  to  be?  The  luxurious  languor  of 
the  steamer  chair,  or  the  energetic  exercise  of  the 
deck?    Take  your  choice." 

"Well,"  answered  the  young  lady,  "as  I  have 
been  enjoying  the  luxurious  languor  all  the  fore- 
noon,  I  prefer  the  energetic  exercise,  if  it  is  agree- 
able to  you,  for  a  while,  at  least." 

"It  is  very  agreeable  to  me.  I  am  all  energy  this 
afternoon.  In  fact,  now  that  you  have  consented 
to  allow  me  to  talk  with  you,  I  fecf  as  if  I  were 
imbued  with  a  new  life." 


76 


IN  A   STEAMER   CHAIR. 


'  1 

.  NT 

:  I 


■z 
•* 

« 


"Dear  me!"  said  she, "and  all  because  of  the  priv- 
ilege of  talking  to  me?" 

"All." 

"How  nice  that  is.  You  are  sure  that  it  is  not 
the  effect  of  the  sea  air?" 

"Quite  certain.  I  had  the  sea  air  this  forenoon, 
you  know." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  had  forgotten  that." 

"Well,  which  side  of  the  deck,  then?" 

"Oh,  whichever  is  the  least  popular  side.  I  dis- 
like a  crowd." 

"I  think,  Miss  Earle,  that  we  will  have  this  side 
pretty  much  to  ourselves.  The  madd'ing  crowd 
seem  to  have  a  preference  for  the  sunny  part  of  the 
ship.  Now,  then,  for  the  siege  of  London.  Who 
besieged  it?" 

"A  lady." 

"Did  she  succeed?" 

"She  did." 

"Well,  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,  indeed.  What 
was  she  besieging  it  for?" 

"For  social  position,  I  presume." 

"Then,  as  we  say  out  West,  I  suppose  she  had  a 
pretty  hard  row  to  hoe?" 

"Yes,  she  had." 

"Well,  I  never  can  get  at  the  story  by  cross- 
questioning.     Now,  supposing  that  you  tell  it  to  me." 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


11 


"I  think  that  you  had  better  take  the  book  and 
read  it.     I  am  not  a  good  story-teller." 

"Why,  I  thought  we  Americans  were  considered 
excellent  story-tellers." 

"We  Americans?" 

'*Oh,  I  remember  now,  you  do  not  lay  claim  to 
being  an  American.  You  are  English,  I  think  you 
said?" 

"I  said  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  merely  said  I  lay 
no  claims  to  being  an  American." 

"Yes,  that  was  it." 

"Well,  you  will  be  pleased  to  know  that  this  lady 
in  the  siege  of  London  was  an  American.  You 
seem  so  anxious  to  establish  a  person's  nationality 
that  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  tell  you  at  the  very 
first  that  she  was  an  American,  and,  what  is  more, 
seemed  to  be  a  Western  American." 

"Seemed?  Oh,  there  we  get  into  uncertainties 
again.  If  I  like  to  know  whether  persons  are 
Americans  or  not,  it  naturally  follows  that  I  am 
anxious  to  know  whether  they  were  Western  or 
Eastern  Americans.  Aren't  you  sure  she  was  a 
Westerner?" 

"The  story,  unfortunately,  leaves  that  a  little 
vague,  so  if  it  displeases  you  1  shall  be  glad  to  stop 
the  telling  of  it." 

"Oh,  no;  don't  do  that!.     I  am  quite  satisfied  to 


'  :i^ 


u  i 

*  V 


1 


( 


« 


78 


/A^  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


take  her  as  an  American  citizen;  whether  she  is 
East  or  West,  or  North  or  South,  does  not  make  the 
slightest  difference  to  me.  Please  go  on  with  the 
story." 

"Well,  the  other  characters,  I  am  happy  to  be 
able  to  say,  are  not  at  all  indefinite  in  the  matter  of 
nationality.  One  is  an  Englishman;  he  is  even 
more  than  that,  he  is  an  English  nobleman.  The 
other  is  an  American.  Then  there  is  the  English 
nobleman's  mother,  who,  of  course,  is  an  English 
woman ;  and  the  American's  sister,  married  to  an 
Englishman,  and  she,  of  course,  is  English-Ameri- 
can.    Does  that  satisfy  you  ?** 

"Perfectly.     Go  on." 

"  It  seems  that  the  besieger,  the  heroine  of  the 
story,  if  you  may  call  her  so,  had  a  past." 

"Has  not  everybody  had  a  past?" 

"Oh,  no.  This  past  is  known  to  the  American 
and  is  unknown  to  the  English  nobleman." 

"Ah,  I  see ;  and  the  American  is  in  love  with  her 
in  spite  of  her  past?" 

"Not  in  Mr.  James's  story." 

"Oh,  I  beg  pardon.  Well,  go  on;  I  shall  not 
interrupt  again." 

"It  is  the  English  nobleman  who  is  in  love  with 
her  in  spite  of  his  absence  of  knowledge  about  her 


m  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


79 


past.  The  English  nobleman's  mother  is  very 
much  against  the  match.  She  tries  to  get  the 
American  to  tell  what  the  past  of  this  woman  is. 
The  American  refuses  to  do  so.  In  fact,  in  Paris 
he  has  half  promised  the  besieger  not  to  say  any- 
thing about  her  past.  She  is  besieging  London, 
and  she  wishes  the  American  to  remain  neutral. 
But  the  nobleman's  mother  at  last  gets  the  Ameri- 
can to  promise  that  he  will  tell  her  son  what  he 
knows  of  this  woman's  past.  The  American  in- 
forms the  woman  what  he  has  promised  the  noble- 
man's mother  to  do,  and  at  this  moment  the  noble- 
man enters  the  room.  The  besieger  of  London, 
feeling  that  her  game  is  up,  leaves  them  together. 
The  American  says  to  the  nobleman,  who  stands 
rather  stiffly  before  him,  'If  you  wish  to  ask  me  any 
questions  regarding  the  lady  who  has  gone  out  I 
shall  be  happy  to  tell  you.*  Those  are  not  the 
words  of  the  book,  but  they  are  in  substance  what 
he  said.  The  nobleman  looked  at  him  for  a  mo- 
ment with  that  hauteur  which,  we  presume,  belongs 
to  noblemen,  and  said  quietly,  *I  wish  to  know 
nothing.'  Now,  that  strikes  me  as  a  very  dramatic 
point  in  the  story." 

"But  didn't  he  wish  to  know  anything  of  the 
woman  whom  he  was  going  to  marry?" 


If. 


II 


80 


/JV  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


H 


^■1 1 


i      I 


"I  presume  that,  naturally,  he  did." 

"And  yet  he  did  not  take  the  opportunity  of 
finding  out  when  he  had  the  chance?" 

"No,  he  did  not." 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that?'* 

"What  do  I  think  of  it?  I  think  it's  a  very  dra- 
matic point  in  the  story." 

"Yes,  but  what  do  you  think  of  his  wisdom  in 
refusing  to  find  out  what  sort  of  a  woman  he  was 
going  to  marry?  Was  he  a  fool  or  was  he  a  very 
noble  man?" 

"Why,  I  thought  I  said  at  the  first  that  he  was  a 
nobleman,  an  Englishman." 

"Miss  Katherine,  you  are  dodging  the  question. 
I  asked  your  opinion  of  that  man's  wisdom.  Was 
he  wise,  or  was  he  a  fool?" 

"What  do  you  think  about  it?  Do  you  think  he 
was  a  fool,  or  a  wise  man?" 

"Well,  I  asked  you  for  your  opinion  first.  How- 
ever, I  have  very  little  hesitation  in  saying  that  a 
man  who  marries  a  woman  of  whom  he  knows  noth- 
ing is  a  fool." 

"Oh,  but  he  was  well  acquainted  with  this  woman. 
It  was  only  her  past  that  he  knew  nothing  about." 

"Well,  I  think  you  must  admit  that  a  woman's 
past  and  a  man's  past  are  very  important  parts  of 
their  lives.     Don't  you  agree  with  me?* 


»*> 


IN  A    STEAAfER  CHAIR. 


8i 


"I  agree  with  you  so  seldom  that  I  should  hesi- 
tate to  say  I  did  on  this  occasion.  But  I  have  told 
the  story  very  badly.  You  will  have  to  read  it  for 
yourself  to  thoroughly  appreciate  the  diflferent  situ- 
ations,  and  then  we  can  discuss  the  matter  intelli- 
gently." 

"You  evidently  think  the  man  was  very  noble  in 
refusing  to  hear  anything  about  the  past  of  the  lady 
he  was  interested  in." 

"I  confess  I  do.  He  was  noble,  at  least,  in  refus- 
ing to  let  a  third  party  tell  him.  If  he  wished  any 
information  he  should  have  asked  the  lady  himself." 

"Yes,  but  supposing  she  refused  to  answer  him?" 

"Then,  I  think  he  should  either  have  declined  to 
have  anything  more  to  do  with  her,  or,  if  he  kept 
up  his  acquaintance,  he  should  have  taken  her  just 
as  she  was,  without  any  reference  to  her  past." 

"I  suppose  you  are  right.  Still,  it  is  a  very  seri- 
ous thing  for  two  people  to  marry  without  knowing 
something  of  each  others'  lives." 

"I  am  tired  of  walking,"  said  Miss  Earle.  "I  am 
now  going  to  seek  comfort  in  the  luxuriousness,  as 
you  call  it,  of  my  steamer  chair." 

"And  may  I  go  with  you?"  asked  the  young 
man. 

"If  you  also  are  tired  of  walking." 

'  'You  know,"  he  said,  "you  promised  the  whole 


82 


lAT  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


<: 


•1  •»  ♦ 

;:* 

't'l  ' 

1  •  a   * 

III   * 

itij : 

■  HI  J 

■    \  I 

afternoon.  You  took  the  forenoon  with  'The 
Siege'  and  now  I  don't  wish  to  be  cheated  out  of 
my  half  of  the  day." 

"Very  well,  I  am  rather  interested  in  another 
story,  and  if  you  will  take  'The  Siege  of  London,' 
and  read  it,  you'll  find  how  much  better  the  book  is 
than  my  telHng  of  the  story." 

George  Morris  had,  of  course,  to  content  himself 
with  this  proposition,  and  they  walked  together  to 
the  steamer  chairs,  over  which  the  gayly  colored 
rugs  were  spread. 

"Shall  I  get  your  book  for  you?"  asked  the 
young  man,  as  he  picked  up  the  rugs. 

"Thank  you,"  answered  Miss  Earle,  with  a  laugh, 
"vou  have  already  done  so,"  for,  as  he  shook  out 
the  rugs,  the  two  books,  which  were  small  handy 
volumes,  fell  out  on  the  deck. 

"  I  see  you  won't  accept  my  hint  about  not  leav- 
ing the  books  around.  You  will  lose  some  precious 
volume  one  of  these  days." 

"Oh,  I  fold  them  in  the  rugs,  and  they  are  all 
right.  Now,  here  is  your  volume.  Sit  down  there 
and  read  it." 

"That  means  also,  'and  keep  quiet,'  I  suppose?" 

"I  don't  imagine  you  are  versatile  enough  to  read 
and  talk  at  the  same  time.    Are  you  ?" 

"I  should  be  very  tempted  to  try  it  this  afternoon." 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAtJi. 


83 


Miss  Earle  went  on  with  her  reading,  and  Morris 
pretended  to  go  on  with  his.  He  soon  found,  how- 
ever, that  he  could  not  concentrate  his  attention  on 
the  little  volume  in  his  hand,  and  so  quickly  aban- 
doned the  attempt,  and  spent  his  time  in  medita- 
tion and  in  casting  furtive  glances  at  his  fair  com- 
panion over  the  top  of  his  book.  He  thought  the 
steamer  chair  a  perfectly  delightful  invention.  It 
was  an  easy,  comfortable,  and  adjustable  apparatus, 
that  allowed  a  person  to  sit  up  or  to  recline  at 
almost  any  angle.  He  pushed  his  chair  back  a 
little  so  that  he  could  watch  the  profile  of  Miss 
Katherine  Earle,  and  the  dark  tresses  that  formed  a 
frame  for  it,  without  risking  the  chance  of  having 
his  espionage  discovered. 

"Aren't  you  comfortable?"  asked  the  young  lady, 
as  he  shoved  back  his  chair. 

"I  am  very,  very  comfortable,"  replied  the  young 
man. 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  she  said,  as  she  resumed  her 
reading. 

George  Morris  watched  her  turn  leaf  after  leaf  as 
he  reclined  lazily  in  his  chair,  with  half-closed  eyes, 
and  said  to  himself,  "Shopgirl  or  not,  past  or  not, 
I'm  going  to  propose  to  that  young  lady  the  first 
good  opportunity  I  get.  I  wonder  what  she  will 
say?*' 


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84 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


it 


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I 


"How  do  you  like  it?"  cried  the  young  lady  he 
was  thinking  of,  with  a  suddenness  that  made  Mor. 
ris  jump  in  his  chair. 

"Like  it?"  he  cried;  "oh,  I  like  it  immensely." 

"How  far  have  you  got?"  she  continued. 

"How  far?  Oh,  a  great  distance.  Very  much 
farther  than  I  would  have  thought  it  possible  when 
I  began  this  voyage." 

Miss  Earle  turned  and  looked  at  him  with  wide- 
open  eyes,  as  he  made  this  strange  reply. 

"What  are  you  speaking  of?"  she  said. 

"Oh,  of  everything — of  the  book,  of  the  voyage, 
of  the  day." 

"I  was  speaking  of  the  book,"  she  replied  quietly. 
"Are  you  sure  you  have  not  fallen  asleep  and 
been  dreaming?" 

"Fallen  asleep?    No.     Dreaming?    Yes." 

"Well,  I  hope  your  dreams  have  been  pleasant 
ones." 

•They  have." 

Miss  Earle,  who  seemed  to  think  it  best  not  to 
follow  her  investigations  any  further,  turned  once 
more  to  her  own  book,  and  read  it  until  it  was  time 
to  dress  for  dinner. 

When  that  important  meal  was  over,  Morris  said 
to  Miss  Earle:  "Do  you  know  you  still  owe  me 
part  of  the  day?" 


:l| 


t  : 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


85 


"I  thought  you  said  you  had  a  very  pleasant 
afternoon." 

"So  1  had.  So  pleasant,  you  see,  that  I  want  to 
have  the  pleasure  prolonged.  I  want  you  to  come 
out  and  have  a  walk  on  the  deck  now  in  the  star- 
light. It  is  a  lovely  night,  and,  besides,  you  are 
now  half-way  across  the  ocean,  and  yet  I  don't 
think  you  have  been  out  once  to  see  the  phosphor- 
escence. That  is  one  of  the  standard  sights  of  an 
ocean  voyage.     Will  you  come?" 

Although  the  words  were  commonplace  enough, 
there  was  a  tremor  in  his  voice  which  gave  a  mean- 
ing to  them  that  could  not  be  misunderstood. 
Miss  Earle  looked  at  him  with  serene  composure, 
and  yet  with  a  touch  of  reproachfulness  in  her 
glance.  "He  talks  like  this  to  me,"  she  said  to 
herself,  "while  he  is  engaged  to  another  woman." 
"Yes,"  she  answered  aloud,  with  more  firmness  in 
her  voice  than  might  have  seemed  necessary,  "I 
will  be  happy  to  walk  on  the  deck  with  you  to  see 
the  phosphorescence." 

He  helped  to  hinder  her  for  a  moment  in  adjust- 
ing her  wraps,  and  they  went  out  in  the  starlit 
night  together. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "if  we  are  fortunate  enough  to 
find  the  place  behind  the  after  wheelhouse  vacant 
we  can  have  a  splendid  view  of  the  phosphorescence." 


f,:. 


li 


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\li 

I; 
ill 

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V  I 


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86 


/;V  /<   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


"Is  it  SO  much  in  demand  that  the  place  is  gener- 
ally  crowded?"  she  asked. 

"I  may  tell  you  in  confidence,"  replied  Mr.  Mor- 
ris, "that  this  particular  portion  of  the  boat  is 
always  very  popular.  Soon  as  the  evening  shades 
prevail  the  place  is  apt  to  be  pre-empted  by  couples 
that  are  very  fond  of " 

"Phosphorescence,"   interjected  the  young  lady. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  that  she  could  not 
see  in  the  darkness,  "of  phosphorescence." 

"I  should  think,"  said  she,  as  they  walked  toward 
the  stern  of  the  boat,  "that  in  scientific  researches 
of  that  sort,  the  more  people  who  were  there,  the 
more  interesting  the  discussion  would  be,  and  the 
more  chance  a  person  would  have  to  improve  his 
mind  on  the  subject  of  phosphorescence,  or  other 
matters  pertaining  to  the  sea." 

"Yes,"  replied  Morris.  "A  person  naturally 
would  think  that,  and  yet,  strange  as  it  may  appear, 
if  there  ever  was  a  time  when  two  is  company  and 
three  is  a  crowd,  it  is  when  looking  at  the  phos- 
phorescence that  follows  the  wake  of  an  ocean 
steamer." 

"Really?"  observed  the  young  lady  archly. 
"You  told  me,  I  remember,  that  you  had  crossed 
the  ocean  several  times." 

The  young  man  laughed  joyously  at  this  bit  of 


:H! 


dfl^- 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHaTr. 


87 


reparUe,  and  his  companion  Joined  him  with  a  laugh 
that  was  low  and  musical. 

"He  seems  very  sure  of  his  ground,"  said  she  to 
herself.     "Well,  we  shall  see." 

As  they  came  to  the  end  of  the  boat  and  passed 
behind  the  temporary  wheelhouse  which  is  erected 
there,  and  which  is  filled  with  debris  of  various 
sorts,  blocks  and  tackle,  and  old  steamer  chairs, 
Morris  noticed  that  two  others  were  there  before 
them,  standing  close  together,  with  arms  upon  the 
bulwarks.  They  were  standing  very  close  together, 
so  close,  in  fact,  that,  in  the  darkness,  it  seemed  as 
if  but  one  person  was  there.  But  as  Morris  stum- 
bled over  some  chains,  the  dark,  united  shadow 
resolved  itself  quickly  into  two  distinct,  separate 
shadows.  A  flag  pole  stood  at  the  extreme  end  of 
the  ship,  inclining  backward  from  the  center  of  the 
bulwarks,  and  leaning  over  the  troubled,  luminous 
sea  beneath ;  the  two  who  had  taken  their  position 
first  were  on  one  side  of  the  flag  pole,  and  Morris 
and  Miss  Earle  on  the  other.  Their  coming  had 
evidently  broken  the  spell  for  the  others.  After 
waiting  for  a  few  moments,  the  lady  took  the  arm 
of  the  gentleman  and  walked  forward. 

"Now,"  said    Morris,  with  a  sigh,  "we  have   the 
phosphorescence  to  ourselves." 

"It  is  very,  very  strange,"  remarked  the  lady  in  a 


»8 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


J   I 


low  voice.  "It  seems  as  if  a  person  could  see  weird 
shapes  arising  in  the  air,  as  if  in  torment." 

The  young  man  said  nothing  for  a  few  moments. 
He  cleared  his  throat  several  times  as  if  to  speak, 
but  still  remained  silent.  Miss  Earle  gazed  down 
at  the  restless,  luminous  water.  The  throb,  throb 
of  the  great  ship  made  the  bulwarks  on  which  their 
arms  rested  tremble  and  quiver. 

Finally  Morris  seemed  to  muster  up  courage 
enough  to  begin,  and  he  said  one  word : 

"Katherine."  As  he  said  this  he  placed  his  hand 
on  hers  as  it  lay  white  before  him  in  the  darkness 
upon  the  trembling  bulwark.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  she  made  a  motion  to  withdraw  her  hand,  and 
then  allowed  it  to  remain  where  it  was. 

"Katherine,"  he  continued,  in  a  voice  that  he 
hardly  recognized  as  his  own,  "we  have  known  each 
other  only  a  very  short  time  comparatively ;  but,  as 
I  think  I  said  to  you  once  before,  a  day  on  ship- 
board may  be  as  long  as  a  month  on  shore.  Kath- 
erine, I  want  to  ask  you  a  question,  and  yet  I  do 
not  know — I  cannot  find — I — I  don't  know  what 
words  to  use." 

The  young  lady  turned  her  face  toward  him,  and 
he  saw  her  clear-cut  profile  sharply  outlined  against 
the  glowing  water  as  he  looked  down  at  her.  Al- 
though the  young  man  struggled  against  the  emo- 


1   .i! 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


89 


tion,  which  is  usually  experienced  by  any  man  in 
his  position,  yet  he  felt  reasonably  sure  of  the 
answer  to  his  question.  She  had  come  with  him 
out  into  the  night.  She  had  allowed  her  hand  to 
remain  in  his.  He  was,  therefore,  stricken  dumb 
with  amazement  when  she  replied,  in  a  soft  and 
musical  voice : 

"You  do  not  know  what  to  say?  What  do  you 
usually  say  on  such  an  occasion?" 

"Usually  say?"  he  gasped  in  dismay.  "I  do  not 
understand  you.     What  do  you  mean?" 

"Isn't  my  meaning  plain  enough?  Am  I  the  first 
young  lady  to  whom  ygu  have  not  known  exactly 
what  to  say?" 

Mr.  Morris  straightened  up,  and  folded  his  arms 
across  his  breast;  then,  ridiculously  enough,  this 
struck  him  as  a  heroic  attitude,  and  altogether  un- 
suitable for  an  American,  so  he  thrust  his  hands 
deep  in  his  coat  pockets. 

"Miss  Earle,"  he  said,  "I  knew  that  you  could  be 
cruel,  but  I  did  not  think  it  possible  that  you  could 
be  so  cruel  as  this." 

"Is  the  cruelty  all  on  my  side,  Mr.  Morris?"  she 
answered.  "Have  you  been  perfectly  honest  and 
frank  with  me?  You  know  you  have  not.  Now,  I 
shall  be  perfectly  honest  and  frank  with  you.  I 
like  you  very  much  indeed.     I  have  not  the  slight- 


w 


90 


/AT  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


m  '■' 


|i  V:\. 


est  hesitation  in  saying  this,  because  it  is  true,  and 
I  don't  care  whether  you  know  it  or  whether  any- 
body else  knows  it  or  not." 

As  she  said  this  the  hope  which  Morris  had  felt 
at  first,  and  which  had  been  dashed  so  rudely  to  the 
ground,  now  returned,  and  he  attempted  to  put  his 
arm  about  her  and  draw  her  to  him ;  but  the  young 
lady  quickly  eluded  his  grasp,  stepping  to  the  other 
side  of  the  flag  pole,  and  putting  her  hand  upon  it. 

"Mr.  Morris,"  she  said,  "there  is  no  use  of  your 
saying  anything  further.  There  is  a  barrier  be- 
tween us;  you  know  it  as  well  as  I.  I  would  like 
us  to  be  friends  as  usual ;  but,  if  we  are  to  be,  you 
will  have  to  remember  the  barrier,  and  keep  to  your 
own  side  of  it." 

"  I  know  of  no  barrier,"  cried  Morris  vehemently, 
attempting  to  come  over  to  her  side. 

"There  is  the  barrier,"  she  said,  placing  her  hand 
on  the  flag  pole.  "  My  place  is  on  this  side  of  that 
barrier;  your  place  is  on  the  other.  If  you  come 
on  this  side  of  that  flag  pole,  I  shall  leave  you.  If 
you  remain  on  your  own  side,  I  shall  be  very  glad 
to  talk  with  you." 

Morris  sullenly  took  his  place  on  the  other  side 
of  the  flag  pole. 

"Has  there  been  anything  in  my  actions,"  said 
the  young  lady,  "during  the  time  we  have  been 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


91 


acquainted,  that  would  lead  you  to  expect  a  different 
answer?" 

"Yes.  You  have  treated  me  outrageously  at 
times,  and  that  gave  me  some  hope." 

Miss  Earle  laughed  her  low,  musical  laugh  at  this 
remark. 

"Oh,  you  may  laugh,"  said  Morris  savagely; 
"but  it  is  no  laughing  matter  to  me,  I  assure  you." 

"Oh,  it  will  be,  Mr.  Morris,  when  you  come  to 
think  of  this  episode  after  you  get  on  shore.  It 
will  seem  to  you  very,  very  funny  indeed ;  and 
when  you  speak  to  the  next  young  lady  on  the 
same  subject,  perhaps  you  will  think  of  how  out- 
rageously I  have  treated  your  remarks  to-night, 
and  be  glad  that  there  are  so  few  young  women  in 
the  world  who  would  act  as  I  have  done." 

"Where  did  you  get  the  notion,"  inquired  George 
Morris,  "that  I  am  in  the  habit  of  proposing  to 
young  ladies?  It  is  a  most  ridiculous  idea.  I  have 
been  engaged  once,  I  confess  it.  I  made  a  mistake, 
and  I  am  sorry  for  it.  There  is  surely  nothing 
criminal  in  that." 

"It  depends." 

"Depends  on  what?" 

"It  depends  on  how  the  other  party  feels  about 
it.  It  takes  two  to  make  an  engagement,  and  it 
should  take  two  to  break  it." 


I'  i  ; 


92 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


■  r  \ 


'Well,   it  didn't   in  my   case,"  said   the  young 


man. 


So  I  understand,"  replied  Miss  Earle.  "Mr. 
Morris,  I  wish  you  a  very  good  evening."  And 
before  he  could  say  a  word  she  had  disappeared  in 
the  darkness,  leaving  him  to  ponder  bitterly  over 
the  events  of  the  evening. 

SIXTH  DAY. 

In  the  vagUL  hope  of  meeting  Miss  Earle,  Morris 
rose  early,  and  for  a  while  paced  the  deck  alone ; 
but  she  did  not  appear.  Neither  did  he  have  the 
pleasure  of  her  company  at  breakfast.  The  more 
the  young  man  thought  of  their  interview  of  the 
previous  evening,  the  more  puzzled  he  was. 

Miss  Earle  had  frankly  confessed  that  she  thought 
a  great  deal  of  him,  and  yet  she  had  treated  him 
with  an  unfeelingness  which  left  him  sore  and  bit- 
ter. She  might  have  refused  him;  that  was  her 
right,  of  course.  But  she  need  not  have  done  it  so 
sarcastically.  He  walked  the  deck  after  breakfast, 
but  saw  nothing  of  Miss  Earle.  As  he  paced  up 
and  down,  he  met  the  very  person  of  rll  others 
whom  he  did  not  wish  to  meet. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Morris,"  she  said  lightly, 
holding  out  her  hand. 


% 


Im 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


93 


"Good-morning,"  he  answered,  taking  it  without 
much  warmth. 

"You  are  walking  the  deck  all  alone,  I  see.  May 
I  accompany  you?" 

"Certainly,"  said  the  young  man,  and  with  that 
she  put  her  hand  on  his  arm  and  they  walked 
together  the  first  two  rounds  without  saying  any- 
thing to  each  other.  Then  she  looked  up  at  him, 
with  a  bright  smile,  and  said,  "So  she  refused 
you?" 

"How  do  you  know?"  answered  the  young  man, 
reddening  and  turning  a  quick  look  at  her. 

"How  do  I  know?"  laughed  the  other.  "How 
should  I  know?" 

For  a  moment  it  flashed  across  his  mind  that 
Miss  Katherine  Earle  had  spoken  of  their  interview 
of  last  night ;  but  a  moment  later  he  dismissed  the 
suspicion  as  unworthy. 

"How  do  you  know?"  he  repeated. 

"Because  I  was  told  so  on  very  good  authority." 

"I  don't  believe  it." 

"Ha,  ha!  now  you  are  very  rude.  It  is  very 
rude  to  say  to  a  lady  that  she  doesn't  speak  the 
truth." 

"Well,  rude  or  not,  you  are  not  speaking  the 
truth.     Nobody  told  you  such  a  thing." 

"  My  dear  George,  how  impolite  you  are.     What 


■ 


I '/' 


94 


/iV  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


a  perfect    bear  you  have   grown  to   be.    Do  you 

want  to  know  who  told  me?" 
"I  don't  care  to  know  anything  about  it." 
'Well,  nevertheless,  I  shall  tell  you.     You  told 


**^ 


me." 

"I  did  ?    Nonsense,  I  never  said  anything  about  it." 

"Yes,  you  did.  Your  walk  showed  it.  The  de- 
jected look  showed  it,  and  when  I  spoke  to  you, 
your  actions,  your  tone,  and  your  words  told  it  to 
me  plainer  than  if"  you  had  said,  'I  proposed  to 
Miss  Earle  last  night  and  I  was  rejected.*  You 
poor,  dear  innocent,  if  you  don't  brighten  up  you 
will  tell  it  to  the  whole  ship." 

**I  am  sure,  Blanche,  that  I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  you  for  the  interest  you  take  in  me. 
Very  much  obliged,  indeed." 

"Oh,  no,  you  are  not;  and  now,  don't  try  to  be 
sarcastic ;  it  really  doesn't  suit  your  manner  at  all. 
I  was  very  anxious  to  know  how  your  little  flirta- 
tion had  turned  out.  I  really  vras.  You  know  I 
have  an  interest  in  you,  George,  and  always  will 
have,  and  I  wouldn't  like  that  spiteful  little  black- 
haired  minx  to  have  got  you,  and  I  am  very  glad 
she  refused  you,  although  why  she  did  so  I  cannot 
for  the  life  of  me  imagine." 

"It  must  be  hard  for  you  to  comprehend  why  she 
refused  me,  now  that  I  am  a  partner  in  the  firm.* 


1$ 


>» 


IN  A  STEAMER  CHAIR. 


95 


Blanche  looked  down  upon  the  deck,  and  did  not 
answer. 

"I  am  glad,"  she  said  finally,  looking  up  brightly 
at  him  with  her  innocent  blue  eyes,  "that  you  did 
not  put  off  your  proposal  until  to-night.  We  ex- 
pect to  be  at  Queenstown  to-night  some  time,  and 
we  leave  there  and  go  on  through  by  the  Lakes  of 
Killarney.  So,  you  see,  if  you  hadn't  proposed 
last  night  I  should  have  known  nothing  at  all  about 
how  the  matter  turned  out,  and  I  should  have  died 
of  curiosity  and  anxiety  to  know." 

"Oh,  I  would  have  written  to  you,"  said  Morris. 
"Leave  me  your  address  now,  and  I'll  write  and  let 
you  know  how  it  turns  out." 

"Oh,"  she  cried  quickly,  "then  it  isn't  ended  yet? 
I  didn't  think  you  were  a  man  who  would  need  to 
be  refused  twice  or  thrice." 

"I  should  be  glad  to  be  refused  by  Miss  Earle 
five  hundred  times." 

"Indeed?" 

"Yes,  five  hundred  times,  if  on  the  five  hundredth 
and  first  time  she  accepted." 

"Is  it  really  so  serious  as  that?" 

"It  is  just  exactly  that  serious." 

"Then  your  talk  to  me  after  all  was  only  pre- 
tense?" 

"No,  only  a  mistake." 


I 


1:,., 


l! 


.  if 
if 


I 


i 


i   1 


m 


? 


IP  t 


96 


/A^  A    STEAMER  CHAIR 


**y 


'What  an  escape  I  have  had  !** 

"You  have,  indeed." 

"Ah,  here  comes  Miss  Earle.  Really,  for  a  lady 
who  has  rejected  a  gentleman,  she  does  not  look  as 
supremely  happy  as  she  might.  I  must  go  and 
have  a  talk  with  her." 

"Look  here,  Blanche,"  cried  the  young  man 
angrily,  "if  you  say  a  word  to  her  about  what  we 
have  been  speaking  of,  I'll " 

"What  ivill  you  do?"  said  the  young  lady 
sweetly. 

Morris  stood  looking  at  her.  He  didn't  himself 
know  what  he  would  do ;  and  Blanche,  bowing  to 
him,  walked  along  the  deck,  and  sat  down  in  the 
steamer  chair  beside  Miss  Earle,  who  gave  her  a 
very  scant  recognition. 

"Now,  you  needn't  be  so  cool  and  dignified," 
said  the  lady.  "George  and  I  have  been  talking 
over  the  matter,  and  I  told  him  he  wasn't  to  feel 
discouraged  at  a  first  refusal,  if  he  is  resolved  to 
have  a  shopgirl  for  his  wife." 

"What  I  Mr.  Morris  and  you  have  been  discuss- 
ing me,  have  you  ?" 

"Is  there  anything  forbidden  in  that.  Miss  Earle? 
You  must  remember  that  George  and  I  are  very, 
very  old  friends,  old  and  dear  friends.  Did  you 
refuse  him  on  my  account?    I  know  you  like  him." 


IN  A   STEAMER   CHAIR. 


97 


"Like  him?"  said  Miss  Earle,  with  a  fierce  light 
in  her  eyes,  as  she  looked  at  her  tormentor.  "Yes, 
I  like  him,  and  I'll  tell  you  more  than  that" ;  she 
bent  over  and  added  in  an  intense  whisper,  "  I  love 
him,  and  if  you  say  another  word  to  me  about  him, 
or  if  you  dare  to  discuss  me  with  him,  I  shall  go  up 
to  him  where  he  stands  now  and  accept  him.  I 
shall  say  to  him,  'George  Morris,  I  love  you.* 
Now,  if  you  doubt  I  shall  do  that,  just  continue  in 
your  present  style  of  conversation." 

Blanche  leaned  back  in  the  steamer  chair  and 
turned  a  trifle  pale.  Then  she  laughed,  that  irritat- 
ing little  laugh  of  hers,  and  said,  "Really,  I  did  not 
think  it  had  gone  so  far  as  that.  I'll  bid  you  good- 
morning." 

The  moment  the  chair  was  vacated,  George  Mor- 
ris strolled  up  and  sat  down  on  it. 

"What  has  that  vixen  been  saying  to  you?"  he 
asked. 

"That  vixen,"  said  Miss  Earle  quietly,  "has  been 
telling  me  that  you  and  she  were  discussing  me  this 
morning,  and  discussing  the  conversation  that  took 
place  last  night." 

"It  is  a  lie,"  said  Morris. 

"What  is?  What  I  say,  or  what  she  said,  or 
what  she  says  you  said?" 

"That  we  were  discussing  you,  or  discussing  our 


w 


98 


/JV  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


H.,*> 


\K     \ 


3 


conversation,  is  not  true.  Forgive  me  for  using  the 
coarser  word.  This  was  how  it  was ;  she  came  up 
to  me " 

"My  dear  Mr.  Morris,  don't  say  a  word.  I  know 
well  enough  that  you  would  not  discuss  the  matter 
with  anybody.  I,  perhaps,  may  go  so  far  as  to  say, 
least  of  all  with  her.  Still,  Mr.  Morris,  you  must 
remember  this,  that  even  if  you  do  not  like  her 
now " 

"Like  her?"  cried  Morris;  "I  hate  her." 

"As  I  was  going  to  say,  and  it  is  very  hard  for 
me  to  say  it,  Mr.  Morris,  you  have  a  duty  toward 
her  as  you — we  all  have  our  duties  to  perform," 
said  Miss  Earle,  with  a  broken  voice.  "You  must 
do  yours,  and  I  must  do  mine.  It  may  be  hard, 
but  it  is  settled.  I  cannot  talk  this  morning.  Ex- 
cuse me."     And  she  rose  and  left  him  sitting  there. 

"What  in  the  world  does  the  girl  mean?  I  am 
glad  that  witch  gets  off  at  Queenstown.  I  believe 
it  is  she  who  has  mixed  everything  up.  I  wish  I 
knew  what  she  has  been  saying." 

Miss  Earle  kept  very  closely  to  her  room  that 
day,  and  in  the  evening,  as  they  approached  the 
Fastnet  Light,  George  Morris  was  not  able  to  find 
her  to  tell  her  of  the  fact  that  they  had  sighted 
land.  He  took  the  liberty,  however,  of  scribbling  a 
little  note  to  her,  which  the  stewardess  promised  to 


(It 


W'M 


IN  A   STEAMER   CHAIR. 


99 


deliver.  He  waited  around  the  foot  of  the  compan- 
ion way  for  an  answer.  The  answer  came  in  the 
person  of  Miss  Katherine  herself. 

If  refusing  a  man  was  any  satisfaction,  it  seemed 
as  if  Miss  Katherine  Earle  had  obtained  very  little 
gratification  from  it.  She  looked  weary  and  sad  as 
she  took  the  young  man's  arm,  and  her  smile  as  she 
looked  up  at  him  had  something  very  pathetic  in  it, 
as  if  a  word  might  bring  the  tears.  They  sat  in  the 
chairs  and  watched  the  Irish  coast.  Morris  pointed 
out  objects  here  and  there,  and  told  her  what  they 
were.  At  last,  when  they  went  down  to  supper 
together,  he  Baid : 

"We  will  be  at  Queenstown  some  time  to-night. 
It  will  be  quite  a  curious  sight  in  the  moonlight. 
Wouldn't  you  like  to  stay  up  and  see  it?" 

"I  think  I  would,"  she  answered.  "I  take  so  few 
ocean  voyages  that  I  wish  to  get  all  the  nautical 
experiences  possible." 

The  young  man  looked  at  her  sharply,  then  he 
said: 

"Well,  the  stop  at  Queenstown  is  one  of  the  ex- 
periences. May  I  send  the  steward  to  rap  at  your 
door  when  the  engine  stops?" 

"Oh,  I  shall  stay  up  in  the  saloon  until  that 
time." 

"It  may  be  a  little  late.     It  may  be  as  late  as  one 


ill 
'! 

■  i 

!.  f 


I'li 


i<- 


I^^V*  I  Mil 


I 


!l    f 


I 


lOO 


/AT  i4   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


4 


or  two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  We  can't  tell.  I 
should  think  the  best  thing  for  you  would  be  to 
take  a  rest  until  the  time  comes.  I  think,  Miss 
Earle,  you  need  it." 

It  was  a  little  after  twelve  o'clock  when  the 
engine  stopped.  The  saloon  was  dimly  lighted, 
and  porters  were  hurrying  to  and  fro,  getting  up 
the  baggage  which  belonged  to  those  who  were 
going  to  get  off  at  Queenstown.  The  night  was 
very  still,  and  rather  cold.  The  lights  of  Queens- 
town  could  be  seen  here  and  there  along  the  semi- 
circular range  of  hills  on  which  the  town  stood. 
Passengers  who  were  to  land  stood  around  the  deck 
well  muffled  up,  and  others  who  had  come  to  bid 
them  good-by  were  talking  sleepily  with  them. 
Morris  was  about  to  send  the  steward  to  Miss 
Earle's  room,  when  that  young  lady  herself  ap- 
peared. There  was  something  spiritlike  about  her, 
wrapped  in  her  long  cloak,  as  she  walked  through 
the  half-darkness  to  meet  George  Morris. 

"I  was  just  going  to  send  for  you,"  he  said. 

**I  did  not  sleep  any,"  was  the  answer,  "and  the 
moment  the  engine  stopped  I  knew  we  were  there. 
Shall  we  go  on  deck?" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "but  come  away  from  the  crowd," 
and  with  that  he  led  her  toward  the  stern  of  the 
boat.     For  a  moment  Miss  Earle  seemed  to  hold 


IM 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


lOI 


back,  but  finally  she  walked  along  by  his  side  firmly 
to  where  they  had  stood  the  night  before.  With 
seeming  intention  Morris  tried  to  take  his  place 
beside  her,  but  Miss  Earle,  quietly  folding  her  cloak 
around  her,  stood  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  flag 
pole,  and,  as  if  there  should  be  no  forgetfulness  on 
his  part,  she  reached  up  her  hand  and  laid  it  against 
the  staff. 

"She  evidently  meant  what  she  said,"  thought 
Morris  to  himself,  with  a  sigh,  as  he  watched  the 
low,  dim  outlines  of  the  hills  around  Queenstown 
Harbor,  and  the  twinkling  lights  here  and  there. 

"That  is  the  tender  coming  now,"  he  said,  point- 
ing to  the  red  and  green  lights  of  the  approaching 
boat.  "How  small  it  looks  beside  our  monster 
steamship." 

Miss  Earle  shivered. 

"I  pity  the  poor  folks  who  have  to  get  up  at  this 
hour  of  the  night  and  go  ashore.  I  should  a  great 
deal  rather  go  back  to  my  stateroom." 

"Well,  there  is  one  passenger  I  am  not  sorry  for," 
said  Morris,  "and  that  is  the  young  woman  who 
has,  I  am  afraid,  been  saying  something  to  you 
which  has  made  you  deal  more  harshly  with  me 
than  perhaps  you  might  otherwise  have  done.  I 
wish  you  would  tell  me  what  she  said." 

"She  has  said  nothing,"  murmured   Miss   Earle, 


I  -  ^i 

I 

!| 
,  ti 


:!■; 


I02 


/iV  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


-.1  . 


•  ft 


i;*i^  ♦ 


W 


» 

\ 

I. 


I 


11 


with  a  sigh,  "but  what  you  yourself  have  confirmed. 
I  do  not  pay  much  attention  to  what  she  says." 

"Well,  you  don't  pay  much  attention  to  what  I 
say,  either,"  he  replied.  "However,  as  I  say,  there 
is  one  person  I  am  not  sorry  for;  I  even  wish  it 
were  raining.     I  am  very  revengeful,  you  see." 

"I  do  not  know  that  I  am  very  sorry  for  her  my- 
self," replied  Miss  Earle  frankly;  "but  I  am  sorry 
for  her  poor  old  father,  who  hasn't  appeared  in  the 
saloon  a  single  day  except  the  first.  He  has  been 
sick  the  entire  voyage." 

"Her  father?"  cried  Morris,  with  a  rising  inflec 
tion  in  his  voice. 

"Certainly." 

**Why,  bless  my  soul!  Her  father  has  been  dead 
for  ages  and  ages." 

"Then  who  is  the  old  man  she  is  with?" 

"Old  man!  It  would  do  me  good  to  have  her 
hear  you  call  him  the  old  man.  Why,  that  is  her 
husband." 

"Her  husband!"  echoed  Miss  Earle,  with  wide- 
open  eyes.     "I  thought  he  was  her  father." 

"Oh,  not  at  all.  It  is  true,  as  you  know,  that  I 
was  engaged  to  the  young  lady,  and  I  presume,  if  I 
had  become  a  partner  in  our  firm  sooner,  we  would 
have  been  married.  But  that  was  a  longer  time 
coming  than  suited  my  young  lady's  convenience, 


IN  A   STEAMER   CHAIR. 


103 


and  so  she  threw  me  over  with  as  little  ceremony  as 
you  would  toss  a  penny  to  a  beggar,  and  she  mar- 
ried this  old  man  for  his  wealth,  I  presume.  I 
don't  see  exactly  why  she  should  take  a  fancy  to 
him  otherwise.  I  felt  very  cut  up  about  it,  of 
course,  and  I  thought  if  I  took  this  voyage  I  would 
at  least  be  rid  for  a  while  of  the  thought  of  her. 
They  are  now  on  their  wedding  trip.  That  is  the 
reason  your  steamer  chair  was  broken,  Miss  Earle, 
Here  I  came  on  board  an  ocean  steamer  to  get  rid 
of  the  sight  or  thought  of  a  certain  woman,  and  to 
find  that  I  was  penned  up  with  that  woman,  even  if 
her  aged  husband  was  with  her,  for  eight  or  nine 
days,  was  too  much  for  me.  So  I  raced  up  the 
deck  and  tried  to  get  ashore.  I  didn't  succeed  in 
that,  but  I  ^iV/ succeed  in  breaking  your  chair." 

Miss  Earle  was  evidently  very  much  astonished 
at  this  revelation,  but  she  said  nothing.  After 
waiting  in  vain  for  her  to  speak,  Morris  gazed  off  at 
the  dim  shore.  When  he  looked  around  he  noticed 
that  Miss  Earle  was  standing  on  his  side  of  the  flag 
staff.    There  was  no  longer  a  barrier  between  them. 


^'  li' 


i 


104 


/AT  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


SEVENTH  DAY. 


If  George  Morris  were  asked  to  say  which  day  of 
all  his  life  had  been  the  most  thoroughly  enjoyable, 
he  would  probably  have  answered  that  the  seventh 
of  his  voyage  from  New  York  to  Liverpool  was  the 
red-letter  day  of  his  life.  The  sea  was  as  calm  as  it 
was  possible  for  a  sea  to  be.  The  sun  shone  bright 
and  warm.  Toward  the  latter  part  of  the  day  they 
saw  the  mountains  of  Wales,  which,  from  the 
steamer's  deck,  seemed  but  a  low  range  of  hills.  It 
did  not  detract  from  Morris's  enjoyment  to  know 
that  Mrs.  Blanche  was  now  on  the  troublous  island 
of  Ireland,  and  that  he  was  sailing  over  this  sum- 
mer sea  with  the  lady  who,  the  night  before,  had 
promised  to  be  his  wife. 

During  the  day  Morris  and  Katherine  sat  to- 
gether on  the  sunny  side  of  the  ship  looking  at  the 
Welsh  coast.  Their  books  lay  unread  on  the  rug, 
and  there  were  long  periods  of  silence  between  them, 

"I  don't  believe,"  said  Morris,  "that  anything 
could  be  more  perfectly  delightful  than  this.  I 
wish  the  shaft  would  break." 

**I  hope  it  won't,"  answered  the  young  lady; 
"the  chances  are  you  would  be  as  cross  as  a  bear 
before  two  days  had  gone  past,  and  would  want  to 
go  of?  iaa  small  boat." 


m 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


105 


"Oh,  I  should  be  quite  willing  to  go  off  in  a  small 
boat  if  you  would  come  with  me.  I  would  do  that 
now." 

"lam  very  comfortable  where  I  am,"  answered 
Miss  Katherine.  "I  know  when  to  let  well  enough 
alone." 

"And  I  don't,  I  suppose  you  mean?" 

"Well,  if  you  wanted  to  change  this  perfectly  de- 
lightful day  for  any  other  day,  or  this  perfectly 
luxurious  and  comfortable  mode  of  travel  for  any 
other  method,  I  should  suspect  you  of  not  letting 
well  enough  alone." 

"I  have  to  admit,"  said  George,  "that  I  am  com- 
pletely and  serenely  happy.  The  only  thing  that 
bothers  me  is  that  to-night  we  shall  be  in  Liver- 
pool. I  wish  this  hazy  and  dreamy  weather  could 
last  forever,  and  I  am  sure  I  could  stand  two  extra 
days  of  it  going  just  as  we  are  now.  I  think  with 
regret  of  how  much  of  this  voyage  we  have 
wasted." 

"Oh,  you  think  it  was  wasted,  do  you?" 

"Well,  wasted  as  compared  with  this  sort  of  life. 

This  seems  to  me  like  a  rest  after  a  long  chase." 
"Up  the  deck?"  asked  the  young  lady,  smiling 

at  him. 

"Now,   see  here,"  said  Morris,  "we  may  as  well 
understand   this   first  as  last,  that   unfortunate  up- 


io6 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


\' 


i..i 


1% 


.py> 


i'^  i 


i^\m  **   ill 


the-deck  chase  has  to  be  left  out  of  our  future  life. 
I  am  not  going  to  be  twitted  about  that  race  every 
time  a  certain  young  lady  takes  a  notion  to  have  a 
sort  of  joke  upon  me." 

"That  was  no  joke,  George.  It  was  the  most 
serious  race  you  ever  ran  in  your  life.  You  were 
running  away  from  one  woman,  and,  poor  blind 
young  man,  you  ran  right  in  the  arms  of  another. 
The  danger  you  have  run  into  is  ever  so  much 
greater  than  the  one  you  were  running  away  from." 

"Oh,  I  realize  that,"  said  the  young  man  lightly; 
"that's  what  makes  me  so  solemn  to-day,  you 
know."  His  hand  stole  under  the  steamer  rugs  and 
imprisoned  her  own. 

"I  am  afraid  people  will  notice  that,"  she  said 
quietly. 

"Well,  let  them;  I  don't  care.  I  don't  know 
anybody  on  board  this  ship,  anyhow,  except  you, 
and  if  you  realized  how  very  little  I  care  for  their 
opinions  you  would  not  try  to  withdraw  your 
hand." 

"I  am  not  trying  very  hard,"  answered  the 
young  woman;  and  then  there  was  another  long 
silence.     Finally  she  continued : 

"I  am  going  to  take  the  steamer  chair  and  do  it 
up  in  ribbons  when  I  get  ashore." 

'I  am  afraid  it  will  not  be  a  very  substantial  chair. 


*<i 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


107 


<< 


if 


no  matter  what  you  do  with  it.  It  will  be  a  trap 
for  those  who  sit  in  it." 

'Are  you  speaking  of  your  own  experience?'* 

'No,  of  yours." 

"George,"  she  said,  after  a  long  pause,  "did  you 
like  her  very  much?" 

"Her?"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  surprised. 
"Who?" 

"Why,  the  young  lady  you  ran  away  from.  You 
know  very  well  whom  I  mean." 

"Like  her?    Why,  I  hate  her." 

"Yes,  perhaps  you  do  now.  But  I  am  asking  of 
former  years.  How  long  were  you  engaged  to 
her?" 

"Engaged?  Let  me  see,  I  have  been  engaged 
just  about — well,  not  twenty-four  hours  yet.  I  was 
never  engaged  before.  I  thought  I  was,  but  I 
wasn't  really." 

Miss  Earle  shook  her  head.  "You  must  have 
liked  her  very  much,"  she  said,  "or  you  never 
would  have  proposed  marriage  to  her.  You  never 
would  have  been  engaged  to  her.  You  never  would 
have  felt  so  badly  when  she " 

"Oh,  say  it  out,"  said  George,  "jilted  me,  that  is 
the  word." 

"No,  that  is  not  the  phrase  I  wanted  to  use. 
She  didn't  really  jilt  you,  you  know.     It  was  be- 


,r 


■I 


Viu- 


It 


ii 


I, 

I' 
»  * 


:«     H<H 


if* 

f 

ft      "■" 


■I* 


I 


,.l    n 


io8 


/iV  ^    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


cause  you  didn't  have,  or  thought  you  didn't  have, 
money  enough.  She  would  like  to  be  married  to 
you  to-day." 

George  shuddered. 

"  I  wish,"  he  said,  "that  you  wouldn't  mar  a  per- 
fect day  by  a  horrible  suggestion.' 

"The  suggestion  would  not  have  been  so  horrible 
a  month  ago." 

"My  dear  girl,"  said  Morris,  rousing  himself  up, 
"it's  a  subject  that  I  do  not  care  much  to  talk 
about,  but  all  young  men,  or  reasonably  young 
men,  make  mistakes  in  their  lives.  That  was  my 
mistake.  My  great  luck  was  that  it  was  discovered 
in  time.  As  a  general  thing,  affairs  in  this  world  are 
admirably  planned,  but  it  does  seem  to  me  a  great 
mistake  that  young  people  have  to  choose  compan- 
ions for  life  at  an  age  when  they  really  haven't  the 
judgment  to  choose  a  house  and  lot.  Now,  confess 
yourself,  I  am  not  your  first  lover,  am  I?" 

Miss  Earle  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  before 
replying. 

"You  remember,"  she  said,  "that  once  you  spoke 
of  not  having  to  incriminate  yourself.  You  refused 
to  answer  a  question  I  asked  you  on  that  ground. 
Now,  I  think  this  is  a  case  in  which  I  would  be 
quite  justified  in  refusing  to  answer.  If  I  told  you 
that  you  were  my  first  lover,  you  would  perhaps  be 


m  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


I09 


manlike  enough  to  think  that  after  all  you  had  only 
taken  what  nobody  else  had  expressed  a  desire  for. 
A  man  does  not  seem  to  value  anything  unless 
someone  else  is  struggling  for  it." 

"Why,  what  sage  and  valuable  ideas  you  have 
about  men,  haven't  you,  my  dear?" 

"Well,  you  can't  deny  but  what  there  is  truth  in 
them." 

"I  not  only  can,  but  I  do.  On  behalf  of  my  fel- 
low-men, and  on  behalf  of  myself,  I  deny  it." 

"Then,  on  the  other  hand,"  she  continued,  "if  I 
confessed  to  you  that  I  did  have  half  a  score  or  half 
a  dozen  of  lovers,  you  would  perhaps  think  I  had 
been  jilting  somebody  or  had  been  jilted.  So  you 
see,  taking  it  all  in,  and  thinking  the  matter  over,  I 
shall  refuse  to  answer  your  question." 

"Then  you  will  not  confess?" 

*  Yes,  I  shall  confess.  I  have  been  wanting  to 
confess  to  you  for  some  little  time,  and  have  felt 
guilty  because  I  did  not  do  so." 

"I  am  prepared  to  receive  the  confession,"  replied 
the  young  man  lazily,  "and  to  grant  absolu- 
tion." 

"Well,  you  talk  a  great  deal  about  America  and 
about  Americans,  and  talk  as  if  you  were  proud  of 
the  country,  and  of  its  ways,  and  of  its  people.' 

"Why,  I  am,"  answered  the  young  man. 


ft 


no 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


"Very  well,  then;  according  to  your  creed  one 
person  is  just  as  good  as  another." 

"Oh,  I  don't  say  that;  I  don't  hold  that  for  a 
moment.  I  don't  think  I  am  as  good  as  you,  for 
instance.'* 

"But  what  I  mean  is  this,  that  one's  occupation 
does  not  necessarily  give  one  a  lower  station  than 
another.  If  that  is  not  your  belief  then  you  are 
not  a  true  American,  that  is  all." 

"Well,  yes,  that  is  my  belief.  I  will  admit  I  be- 
lieve all  that.     What  of  it?" 

"What  of  it?  Jhere  is  this  of  it.  You  are  the 
junior  partner  of  a  large  establishment  in  New 
York?" 

"Nothing  criminal  in  that,  is  there?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  put  it  as  an  accusation,  I  am  merely 
stating  the  fact.     You  admit  the  fact,  of  course?" 

"Yes.  The  fact  is  admitted,  and  marked  'Ex- 
hibit A,'  and  placed  in  evidence.  Now,  what 
next?" 

"In  the  same  establishment  there  was  a  young 
woman  who  sold  ribbons  to  all  comers." 

"Yes,  I  admit  that  also,  and  the  young  lady's 
name  was  Miss  Katherine  Earle." 

"Oh,  you  knew  it,  then?" 

"Why,  certainly  I  did." 
'You  knew  it  before  you  proposed  to  me." 


<<< 


IN  A   STEAMER   CHAIR. 


Ill 


"Oh,  I  seem  to  have  known  that  fact  for  years 
and  years." 

"She  told  it  to  you." 

"She?    What  she?" 

"You  know  very  well  who  I  mean,  George.  She 
told  it  to  you,  didn't  she?" 

"Why,  don't  you  think  I  remembered  you — 
remembered  seeing  you  there?" 

"I  know  very  well  you  did  not.  You  may  have 
seen  me  there,  but  you  did  not  remember  me.  The 
moment  I  spoke  to  you  on  the  deck  that  day  in  the 
broken  chair,  I  saw  at  once  you  did  not  remember 
me ;  and  there  is  very  little  use  of  your  trying  to 
pretend  you  thought  of  it  afterward.  She  told  it  to 
you,  didn't  she?" 

"Now,  look  here,  Katherine,  it  isn't  T  who  am 
making  a  confession,  it  is  you.  It  is  not  customary 
for  a  penitent  to  cross-examine  the  father  confessor 
in  that  style." 

"It  does  not  make  any  difference  whether  you 
confess  or  not,  George;  I  shall  always  know  she 
told  you  that.  After  all,  I  wish  she  had  left  it  for 
me  to  tell.  I  believe  I  dislike  that  woman  very 
much." 

"Shake  hands,  Kate,  over  that.     So  do  I.     Now, 
my  dear,  tell  me  what  she  told  youy 
"Then  she  did  tell  you  that,  did  she?" 


fi 


112 


IN  A  STEAMER  CHAIR. 


m. 


"Why,  if  you  are  so  sure  of  it  without  my  admit- 
ting it,  why  do  you  ask  again?" 

"I  suppose  because  I  wanted  to  make  doubly 
sure." 

"Well,  then,  assurance  is  doubly  sure.  I  admit 
she  did." 

"And  you  listened  to  her,  George?"  said  Kath- 
erine  reproachfully. 

"Listened?  Why,  of  course  I  did.  I  couldn't 
help  myself.  She  said  it  before  I  knew  what  she 
was  going  to  say.  She  didn't  give  me  the  chance 
that  your  man  had  in  that  story  you  were  speaking 
of.  I  said  something  that  irritated  her,  and  she  out 
with  it  at  once,  as  if  it  had  been  a  crime  on  your 
part.  I  did  not  look  on  it  in  that  light,  and  don't 
now.  Anyhow,  you  are  not  going  back  to  the  rib- 
bon counter." 

"No,"  answered  the  young  lady,  with  a  sigh, 
looking  dreamily  out  into  the  hazy  distance.  "No, 
I  am  not." 

"At  least,  not  that  side  of  the  counter,"  said 
George. 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  as  if  she  did 
not  understand  him ;  then  she  laughed  lightly. 

"Now,"  said  Morris,  "I  have  done  most  of  the 
confessing  on  this  confession  of  yours.    Supposing 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


»I3 


I  make  a  confession,  and  ask  you  to  tell  me  what 
she  told  you." 

"Well,  she  told  me  that  you  were  a  very  fascinat- 
ing young  man,"  answered  Katherine,  with  a  sigh. 

"Really.  And  did  after-acquaintance  corroborate 
that  statement?" 

"I  never  had  occasion  to  tell  her  she  was  mis- 
taken." 

"What  else  did  she  say?  Didn't  mention  any- 
thing  about  my  prospects  or  financial  standing  in 
any  way?" 

"No,  we  did  not  touch  on  that  subject." 

"Come,  now,  you  cannot  evade  the  question. 
What  else  did  she  say  to  you  about  me?" 

"I  don't  know  that  it  is  quite  right  to  tell  you, 
but  I  suppose  I  may.  She  said  that  you  were 
engaged  to  her." 

"Had  been?" 

*'No,  were." 

"Oh,  that's  it.  She  did  not  tell  you  she  was  on 
her  wedding  tour?" 

"No,  she  did  not." 

"And  didn't  you  speak  to  her  about  her  father 
being  on  board?" 

Katherine  laughed  her  low,  enjoyable  laugh. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  did,  and  I  did  not  think  till 


n 


m 


i 


Ill 

H 


I' 


m 


(  « 


4  ji,<* 
1 1** 


114  fJ^  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 

this  moment  of  how  flustered  she  looked.  But  she 
recovered  her  lost  ground  with  a  great  deal  of  dex- 
terity." 

**By  George,  I  should  like  to  have  heard  that!  I 
am  avenged!" 

"Well,  so  is  she,"  was  the  answer. 

"How  is  that?" 

"You  are  engaged  to  me,  are  you  not?" 

Before  George  could  make  any  suitable  reply  to 
this  bit  of  humbug,  one  of  the  officers  of  the  ship 
stopped  before  them. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  am  afraid  we  shall  not  see 
Liverpool  to-night." 

"Really.     Why?"  asked  George. 

"This  haze  is  settling  down  into  a  fog.  It  will  be 
as  thick  as  pea  soup  before  an  hour.  I  expect 
there  will  be  a  good  deal  of  grumbling  among  the 
passengers." 

As  he  walked  on,  George  said  to  Katherine, 
"There  are  two  passengers  who  won't  grumble  any, 
will  they,  my  dear?" 

"I  know  one  who  won't,"  she  answered. 

The  fog  grew  thicker  and  thicker;  the  vessel 
slowed  down,  and  finally  stopped,  sounding  every 
now  and  then  its  mournful,  timber-shaking  whistle. 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


"5 


EIGHTH  DAY. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  eighth  day  George  Mor- 
ris and  Katherine  Earle  stood  together  on  the  deck 
of  the  tender,  looking  back  at  the  huge  steamship 
which  they  had  just  left. 

"When  we  return,"  he  said,  "I  think  we  shall 
choose  this  ship." 

"Return?"  she  answered,  looking  at  him. 

"Why,  certainly;  we  are  going  back,  are  we  not?" 

"Dear  me,"  she  replied,  "I  had  not  thought  of 
that.  You  see,  when  I  left  America  I  did  not 
intend  to  go  back." 

"Did  you  not?  I  thought  you  were  only  over 
here  for  the  trip." 

*  *Oh,  no.  I  told  you  I  came  on  business,  not  on 
pleasure." 

"And  did  you  intend  to  stay  over  here?" 
"Certainly." 

"Why,  that's  strange;  I  never  thought  of  that." 
"It  is  strange,  too,"  said  Katherine,  "that  I  never 
thought  of  going  back." 

"And— and,"  said  the  young  man,  * 'won't  you 
go?" 

She  pressed  his  arm,  and  stood  motionless. 

"  'Where  thou  goest,  I  will  go.  Thy  people  shall 
be  my  people.' 


\ 


>  >» 


Ii6 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


1  if(A 

i.M,v 


i; 


■!]■■  •  "» 


i'<f 


"That's  a  quotation,  I  suppose?"  said  George. 

"It  is,"  answered  Katherine. 

"Well,  you  see,  as  I  told  you,  I  am  not  very  well 
read  up  on  the  books  of  the  day." 

"I  don't  know  whether  you  would  call  that  one 
of  the  books  of  the  day  or  not,"  said  Katherine;  "it 
is  from  the  Bible." 

"Oh !"  answered  the  other.  "I  believe,  Kate, you 
will  spend  the  rest  of  your  life  laughing  at  me." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  the  young  lady,  "I  always  thought 
I  was  fitted  for  missionary  life.  Now,  look  what  a 
chance  I  have." 

"You  have  taken  a  big  contract,  I  admit." 

They  had  very  little  trouble  with  their  luggage. 
It  is  true  that  the  English  officials  looked  rather 
searchingly  in  Katherine's  trunk  for  dynamite,  but, 
their  fears  being  allayed  in  that  direction,  the 
trunks  were  soon  chalked  and  on  the  back  of  a 
stout  porter,  who  transferred  them  to  the  top  of  a 
cab. 

"I  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  George,  "it  takes  an 
American  custom-house  official  to  make  the  average 
American  feel  ashamed  of  his  country." 

"Why,  I  did  not  think  there  was  anything  over 
there  that  could  make  you  feel  ashamed  of  your 
country.    You   are  such  a  thorough-going  Ameri- 


can. 


i» 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


H7 


It 


"Well,  the  customs  officials  in  New  York  have  a 
knack  of  making  a  person  feel  that  he  belongs  to  no 
place  on  earth." 

They  drove  to  the  big  Liverpool  hotel  which  is 
usually  frequented  by  Americans  who  land  in  that 
city,  and  George  spent  the  afternoon  in  attending 
to  business  in  Liverpool,  which  he  said  he  did  not 
expect  to  have  to  look  after  when  he  left  America, 
but  which  he  desired  very  much  to  get  some  in- 
formation about. 

Katherine  innocently  asked  if  she  could  be  of  any 
assistance  to  him,  and  he  replied  that  she  might 
later  on,  but  not  at  the  present  state  of  proceed- 
ings. 

In  the  evening  they  went  to  a  theater  together, 
and  took  a  long  route  back  to  the  hotel. 

**It  isn't  a  very  pretty  city,"  said  Miss  Earle. 

"Oh,  I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  replied  her  lover. 
"To  me  it  is  the  most  beautiful  city  in  the  world." 

"Do  you  really  mean  that?"  she  said,  looking  at 
him  with  surprise. 

"Yes,  I  do.  It  is  the  first  city  through  which  I 
have  walked  with  the  lady  who  is  to  be  my  wife." 

"Oh,  indeed,"  remarked  the  lady  who  was  to  be 
his  wife,  "and  have  you  never  walked  with " 

"Now,  see  here,"  said  Morris,  "that  subject  is 
barred   out.     We  left   all  those  allusions  on  the 


i 


!l 


• 


ii8 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


"1 


<<1 


**^ 


steamer.  I  say  I  am  walking  now  with  the  lady 
who  is  to  be  my  wife.  I  think  that  statement  of 
the  case  is  perfectly  correct,  is  it  not?" 

"I  believe  it  is  rather  more  accurate  than  the 
average  statement  of  the  average  American." 

"Now,  Katherine,"  he  said,  "do  you  know  what 
information  I  have  been  looking  up  since  I  have 
been  in  Liverpool?" 

'I  haven't  the  slightest  idea,"  she  said.  "Property  ?" 
No,  not  property." 

'Looking  after  your  baggage,  probably?" 

'Well,  I  think  you  have  got  it  this  time.  I  was 
looking  after  my  baggage.  I  was  trying  to  find  out 
how  and  when  we  could  get  married." 

"Oh!" 

"Yes,  oh!  Does  that  shock  you?  I  find  they 
have  some  idiotic  arrangement  by  which  a  person 
has  to  live  here  three  months  before  he  can  be  mar- 
ried, although  I  was  given  some  hope  that,  by  pay- 
ing for  it,  a  person  could  get  a  special  license.  If 
that  is  the  case,  I  am  going  to  have  a  special  license 
to-morrow." 

"Indeed?" 

"Yes,  indeed.  Then  we  can  be  married  at  the 
hotel." 

"And  don't  you  think,  George,  that  I  might  have 
something  to  say  about  that?" 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


119 


"Oh,  certainly!  I  intended  to  talk  with  you 
about  it.  Of  course  I  am  talking  with  you  now  on 
that  subject.  You  admitted  the  possibility  of  our 
getting  married.  I  believe  I  had  better  get  you  to 
put  it  down  in  writing,  or  have  you  say  it  before 
witnesses,  or  something  of  that  sort." 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  like  to  be  married  in  a  hotel." 

"In  a  church,  then?  I  suppose  I  can  make  ar- 
rangements that  will  include  a  church.  A  parson 
will  marry  us.  That  parson,  if  he  is  the  right  sort, 
will  have  a  church.  It  stands  to  reason,  therefore, 
that  if  we  give  him  the  contract  he  will  give  us  the 
use  of  his  church — quid  pro  quo,  you  know." 

"Don't  talk  flippantly,  please.  I  think  it  better 
to  wait  until  to-morrow,  George,  before  you  do  any- 
thing rash.  I  want  to  see  something  of  the  coun- 
try. I  want  us  to  take  a  little  journey  together 
to-morrow,  and  then,  out  in  the  country,  not  in  this 
grimy,  sooty  city,  we  will  make  arrangements  for 
our  marriage." 

"All  right,  my  dear.  Where  do  you  intend  to 
go?" 

"While  you  have  been  wasting  your  time  in  get- 
ting information  relating  to  matrimony,  I  have  been 
examining  time-tables.  Where  I  want  to  go  is  two 
or  three  hours'  ride  from  here.  We  can  take  one 
of  the  morning  trains,  and   when   we   get  to  the 


V\ 


».  '\ 


4, 


t 


'^n 


\ 


m 


1 20 


/AT  ^    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


place  I  will  allow  you  to  hire  a  conveyance,  and  we 
will  have  a  real  country  drive.  Will  you  go  with 
me?" 

"Will  I?  You  better  believe  I  will.  But  you 
see,  Katherine,  I  want  to  get  married  as  soon  as 
possible.  Then  we  can  take  a  little  trip  on  the 
Continent  before  it  is  time  for  us  to  go  back  to 
America.  You  have  never  been  on  the  Continent, 
have  you?" 

"Never." 

"Well,  I  am  very  glad  of  that.  I  shall  be  your 
guide,  philosopher,  and  friend,  and,  added  to  that, 
your  husband." 

"Very  well,  we  will  arrange  all  that  on  our  little 
excursion  to-morrow." 

NINTH  DAY. 

Spring  in  England — and  one  of  those  perfect 
spring  days  in  which  all  rural  England  looks  like  a 
garden.  The  landscape  was  especially  beautiful 
to  American  eyes,  after  the  more  rugged  views  of 
Transatlantic  scenery.  The  hedges  were  closely 
clipped,  the  fields  of  the  deepest  green,  and  the 
hills  far  away  were  blue  and  hazy  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

"There  is  no  getting  over  the  fact,"  said  Morris, 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


121 


"that   this  is  the  prettiest   country   in   the   whole 
world." 

During  most  of  the  journey  Katherine  Earle  sat 
back  in  her  corner  of  the  first-class  compartment, 
and  gazed  silently  out  of  the  flying  windows.  She 
seemed  too  deeply  impressed  with  the  beauty  of 
the  scene  to  care  for  conversation  even  with  the 
man  she  was  to  marry.  At  last  they  stopped  at  a 
pretty  little  rural  station,  with  the  name  of  the 
place  done  in  flowers  of  vivid  color  that  stood  out 
against  the  brown  of  the  earth  around  them  and  the 
green  turf  which  formed  the  sloping  bank. 

"Now,"  said  George,  as  they  stood  on  the  plat- 
form, "whither  away?     Which  direction?" 

"I  want  to  see,"  said  she,  "a  real,  genuine,  old 
English  country  home." 

"A  castle?" 

"No,  not  a  castle." 

"Oh,  I  know  what  you  want.  Something  like 
Haddon  Hall,  or  that  sort  of  thing.  An  old  manor 
house.  Well,  wait  a  minute,  and  I'll  talk  to  the 
station-master,  and  find  out  all  there  is  about  this 
part  of  the  country." 

And  before  she  could  stop  him,  he  had  gone  to 
make  his  inquiry  of  that  official.  Shortly  after,  he 
came  back  with  a  list  of  places  that  were  worth  see- 
ing, which  he  named. 


1 1  ■ 


•I  f 

'I 


122 


IN  A    STEAMER  CHAIR. 


"Holmwood  House,"  she  repeated.  "Let  us  see 
that.     How  far  is  it?" 

George  again  made  inquiries,  and  found  that  it 
was  about  eight  miles  away.  The  station-master 
assured  him  that  the  road  thither  was  one  of  the 
prettiest  drives  in  the  whole  country. 

"Now,  what  kind  of  a  conveyance  will  you  have? 
There  are  four-wheeled  cabs,  and  there  is  even  a 
hansom  to  be  had.  Will  you  have  two  horses  or 
one,  and  will  you  have  a  coachman?" 

"None  of  these,"  she  said,  "if  you  can  get  some- 
thing you  can  drive  yourself — I  suppose  you  are  a 
driver?" 

"Oh,  I  have  driven  a  buggy." 

"Well,  get  some  sort  of  conveyance  that  we  can 
both  sit  in  while  you  drive." 

"But  don't  you  think  we  will  get  lost?" 

"We  can  inquire  the  way,"  she  said,  "and  if  we 
do  get  lost,  it  won't  matter.  I  want  to  have  a  long 
talk  with  you  before  we  reach  the  place." 

They  crossed  the  railway  by  a  bridge  over  the 
line,  and  descended  into  a  valley  along  which  the 
road  wound. 

The  outfit  which  George  had  secured  was  a  neat 
little  cart  made  of  wood  in  the  natural  color  and 
varnished,  and  a  trim  little  pony,  which  looked 
ridiculously  small   for  two  grown  people,  and  yet 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


"3 


was,  as  Geor£;e  afterward  said,  "as  tough  as  a  pine 
knot." 

The  pony  trotted  merrily  along,  and  needed  no 
urging.  George  doubtless  was  a  good  driver,  but 
whatever  talents  he  had  in  that  line  were  not 
brought  into  play.  The  pony  was  a  treasure  that 
had  apparently  no  bad  qualities.  For  a  long  time 
the  two  in  the  cart  rode  along  the  smooth  highway 
silently,  until  at  last  Morris  broke  out  with : 

"Oh,  see  here!  This  is  not  according  to  con- 
tract. You  said  you  wanted  a  long  talk,  and  now 
you  are  complacently  saying  nothing." 

"I  do  not  know  exactly  how  to  begin." 

"Is  it  so  serious  as  all  that?" 

"It  is  not  serious  exactly— it  is  merely,  as  it  were, 
a  continuation  of  the  confession." 

"I  thought  we  were  through  with  that  long  ago. 
Are  there  any  more  horrible  revelations?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  something  like  reproach 
in  her  eyes. 

"If  you  are  going  to  talk  flippantly,  I  think  I 
will  postpone  what  I  have  to  say  until  another 
time." 

"My  dear  Kate,  give  a  man  a  chance.  He  can't 
reform  in  a  moment.  I  never  had  my  flippancy 
checked  before.  Now  then,  I  am  serious  again. 
What  appalling— I  mean— you  see  how  difficult  it 


I  ( < 


124 


IN  A   STEAMER   CHAIR. 


ijr 


'\ 


is,  Katherine — I  mean,  what  serious  subject  shall 
we  discuss?" 

"Some  other  time." 

"No — now.  I  insist  on  it.  Otherwise  I  will 
know  I  am  unforgiven." 

"There  is  nothing  to  forgive.  I  merely  wanted 
to  tell  you  something  more  than  you  know  about 
my  own  history." 

"I  know  more  now  than  that  man  in  the  story." 

"  He  did  not  object  to  the  knowledge,  you  know. 
He  objected  to  receiving  it  from  a  third  person. 
Now  I  am  not  a  third  person,  am  I?" 

"Indeed,  you  are  not.  You  are  first  person  sin- 
gular— at  present — the  first  person  to  me  at  least. 
There,  I  am  afraid  I  have  dropped  into  flippancy 
again." 

"That  is  not  flippancy.    That  is  very  nice." 

The  interval  shall  be  unreported. 

At  last  Katherine  said  quietly,  "My  mother  came 
from  this  part  of  England." 

"Ah!    That  is  why  you  wanted  to  come  here." 

"That  is  why  I  wanted  to  come  here.  She  was 
her  father's  only  daughter,  and,  strange  to  say,  he 
was  very  fond  of  her,  and  proud  of  her." 

"Why  strange?" 

"Strange  from  his  action  for  years  after.  She 
married   against   his  will.     He   never   forgave  her. 


m  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


"S 


My  father  did  not  seem  to  have  the  knack  of  get- 
ting along  in  the  world,  and  he  moved  to  America 
in  the  hope  of  bettering  his  condition.  He  did  not 
better  it.  My  father  died  ten  years  ago,  a  prema- 
turely broken  down  man,  and  my  mother  and  I 
struggled  along  as  best  we  could  until  she  died  two 
years  ago.  My  grandfather  returned  her  letter  un- 
opened when  mother  wrote  to  him  ten  years  ago, 
although  the  letter  had  a  black  border  around  it. 
When  I  think  of  her  I  find  it  hard  to  forgive  him, 
so  I  suppose  some  of  his  nature  has  been  transmit- 
ted to  me." 

**Find  it  hard?  Katherine,  if  you  were  not  an 
angel  you  would  find  it  impossible." 

"Well,  there  is  nothing  more  to  tell,  or  at  least, 
not  much.  I  thought  you  should  know  this.  I 
intended  to  tell  you  that  last  day  on  shipboard,  but 
it  seemed  to  me  that  here  was  where  it  should  be 
told — among  the  hills  and  valleys  that  she  saw 
when  she  was  my  age." 

"Katherine,  my  dear,  do  not  think  about  it  any 
more  than  you  can  help.  It  will  only  uselessly  de- 
press you.  Here  is  a  man  coming.  Let  us  find 
out  now  whether  we  have  lost  our  way  or  not." 

They  had. 

Even  after  that  they  managed  to  get  up  some 
wrong  lanes  and  byways,  and  took  several  wrong 


IP 


tiii 


126 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


,  ,1 


'fii 


turnings;  but  by  means  of  inquiry  from  everyone 
they  met,  they  succeeded  at  last  in  reaching  the 
place  they  were  in  search  of. 

There  was  an  old  and  gray  porter's  lodge,  and  an 
old  and  gray  gateway,  with  two  tall,  moss-grown 
stone  pillars,  and  an  iron  gate  between  them.  On 
the  top  of  the  pillars  were  crumbled  stone  shields, 
seemingly  held  in  place  by  a  lion  on  each  pillar. 

"Is  this  Holmwood  House?"  asked  Morris  of  the 
old  and  gray  man  who  came  out  of  the  porter's  lodge. 

"Yes,  sir,  it  be,"  replied  the  man. 

"Are  visitors  permitted  to  see  the  house  and  the 
grounds?" 

"No,  they  be'ant,"  was  the  answer.  **  Visitors 
were  allowed  on  Saturdays  in  the  old  Squire's  time, 
but  since  he  died  they  tell  me  the  estate  is  in  the 
courts,  and  we  have  orders  from  the  London  law- 
yers to  let  nobody  in." 

"I  can  make  it  worth  your  while,"  said  George, 
feeling  in  his  vest  pocket ;  "this  lady  would  like  to 
see  the  house." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head,  even  although 
George  showed  him  a  gold  piece  between  his  finger 
and  thumb.  Morris  was  astonished  at  this,  for  he 
had  the  mistaken  belief  which  all  Americans  have, 
that  a  tip  in  Europe,  if  it  is  only  large  enough,  will 
accomplish  anything. 


! 


m  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


127 


<<i 


'I  think  perhaps  I  can  get  permission,"  said 
Katherine,  "if  you  will  let  me  talk  a  while  to  the 
old  man," 

"All  right.  Go  ahead,"  said  George.  "I  believe 
you  could  wheedle  anybody  into  doing  what  he 
shouldn't  do." 

"Now  after  saying  that,  I  shall  not  allow  you  to 
listen.  I  shall  step  down  and  talk  with  him  a  mo- 
ment, and  you  can  drive  on  for  a  little  distance  and 
come  back." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  George,  "I  know  how 
it  is.  You  don't  want  to  give  away  the  secret  of 
your  power.  Be  careful,  now,  in  stepping  down. 
This  is  not  an  American  buggy."  But  before  he  had 
finished  the  warning,  Katherine  had  jumped  lightly 
on  the  gravel,  and  stood  waiting  for  him  to  drive  on. 
When  he  came  back  he  found  the  iron  gates  open. 

"I  shall  not  get  in  again,"  she  said.  "You  may 
leave  the  pony  with  this  man,  George ;  he  will  take 
care  of  it.  We  can  walk  up  the  avenue  to  the 
house.** 

After  a  short  walk  under  the  spreading  old  oaks 
they  came  in  sight  of  the  house,  which  was  of  red 
brick  and  of  the  Elizabethan  style  of  architecture. 

"I  am  rather  disappointed  with  that,"  said 
George;  "I  always  though  told  English  homesteads 
were  of  stone." 


138 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


M 


"Well,  this  one  at  least  is  of  brick,  and  I  imagine 
you  will  find  a  great  many  of  them  are  of  the  same 
material." 

They  met  with  further  opposition  from  the 
housekeeper,  who  came  to  the  door  which  the 
servant  had  ^opened  after  the  bell  was  rung. 

She  would  allow  nobody  in  the  house,  she  said. 
As  for  Giles,  if  he  allowed  people  on  the  grounds 
that  was  his  own  lookout,  but  she  had  been  forbid- 
den by  the  lawyers  to  allow  anybody  in  the  house, 
and  she  had  let  nobody  in,  and  she  wasn't  going  to 
let  anybody  in. 

"Shall  I  offer  her  a  tip?"  asked  George,  in  a 
whisper. 

"No,  don't  do  that." 

*'You  can*t  wheedle  her  like  you  did  the  old  man, 
you  know.  A  woman  may  do  a  great  deal  with  a 
man,  but  when  she  meets  another  woman  she  meets 
her  match.  You  women  know  each  other,  you 
know." 

Meanwhile  the  housekeeper,  who  had  been  about 
to  shut  the  door,  seemed  to  pause  and  regard  the 
young  lady  with  a  good  deal  of  curiosity.  Her 
attention  had  before  that  time  been  taken  up  with 
the  gentleman. 

"Well,  I  shall  walk  to  the  end  of  the  terrace,  and 
give  you  a  chance  to  try  your  wiles.     But  I  am 


IN  A    STEAMER   CHAIR. 


129 


ready  to  bet  ten  dollars  that  you  don't  suc- 
ceed." 

"I'll  take  you,"  answered  the  young  lady. 

"Yes,  you  said  you  would  that  night  on  the 
steamer." 

"Oh,  that's  a  very  good  way  of  getting  out  of  a 
hopeless  bet." 

"I  am  ready  to  make  the  bet  all  right  enough, 
but  I  know  you  haven't  a  ten-dollar  bill  about  you." 

"Well,  that  is  very  true,  for  I  have  changed  all 
my  money  to  English  currency ;  but  I  am  willing 
to  bet  its  equivalent." 

Morris  walked  to  the  end  of  the  terrace.  When 
he  got  back  he  found  that  the  door  of  the  house 
was  as  wide  open  as  the  gates  of  the  park  had  been. 

"There  is  something  uncanny  about  all  this,"  he 
said.  "I  am  just  beginning  to  see  that  you  have  a 
most  dangerous  power  of  fascination.  I  could  un- 
derstand it  with  old  Giles,  but  I  must  admit  that  I 
thought  the  stern  housekeeper  would " 

"My  dear  George,"  interrupted  Katherine,  "al- 
most  anything  can  be  accomplished  with  people,  if 
you  only  go  about  it  the  right  way." 

"Now,  what  is  there  to  be  seen  in  this  house?" 

"All  that  there  is  to  be  seen  about  any  old  Eng- 
lish house.  I  thought,  perhaps,  you  might  be  inter- 
ested in  it." 


130 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR. 


W 


"Oh,  I  am.  But  I  mean, aren't  there  any  notable 
things?  For  instance,  I  was  in  Haddon  Hall  once, 
and  they  showed  me  the  back  stairway  where  a  fair 
lady  had  eloped  with  her  lover.  Have  they  any- 
thing of  that  kind  to  show  here?" 

Miss  Earle  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  "Yes,** 
she  said,  "I  am  afraid  they  have." 

"Afraid?  Why,  that  is  perfectly  delightful. 
Did  the  young  lady  of  the  house  elope  with  her 
lover?** 

"Oh,  don't  talk  in  that  way,  George,"  she  said. 
"Please  don't.'* 

"Well,  I  won*t,  if  you  say  so.  I  admit  those 
little  episodes  generally  turn  out  badly.  Still  you 
must  acknowledge  that  they  add  a  great  interest  to 
an  old  house  of  the  Elizabethan  age  like  this?** 

Miss  Earle  was  silent.  They  had,  by  this  time, 
gone  up  the  polished  stairway,  which  was  dimly 
lighted  by  a  large  window  of  stained  glass. 

"Here  we  are  in  the  portrait  hall,"  said  Miss 
Earle.  "There  is  a  picture  here  that  I  have  never 
seen,  although  I  have  heard  of  it,  and  I  want  to 
see  it.  Where  is  it?"  she  asked,  turning  to  the  house- 
keeper, who  had  been  following  them  up  the  stairs. 

"This  way,  my  lady,"  answered  the  housekeeper, 
as  she  brought  them  before  a  painting  completely 
concealed  by  a  dark  covering  of  cloth. 


1 1  VI! 


IN  A   STEAMER  CHAIR, 


131 


"Why  is  it  covered  in  that  way?  To  keep  the 
dust  from  it?" 

The  housekeeper  hesitated  for  a  moment ;  then 
she  said : 

'The  old  Squire,  my  lady,  put  that  on  when  she 
left,  and  it  has  never  been  taken  off  since." 

"Then  take  it  off  at  once,"  demanded  Katherine 
Earle,  in  a  tone  that  astonished  Morris. 

The  housekeeper,  who  was  too  dignified  to  take 
down  the  covering  herself,  went  to  find  the  servant, 
but  Miss  Earle,  with  a  gesture  of  impatience, 
grasped  the  cloth  and  tore  it  from  its  place,  reveal- 
ing the  full-length  portrait  of  a  young  lady. 

Morris  looked  at  the  portrait  in  astonishment, 
and  then  at  the  girl  by  his  side. 

"Why,  Katherine,"  he  cried,  "it  is  your  picture!" 

The  young  lady  was  standing  with  her  hands 
tightly  clenched  and  her  lips  quivering  with  nervous 
excitement.  There  were  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  she 
did  not  answer  her  lover  for  a  moment ;  then  she 
said: 

"No,  it  is  not  my  picture.  This  is  a  portrait  of 
my  mother." 


MRS.   TREMAIN. 


And  Woman,  with  a  flaming  torch, 
Sings,  heedless,  in  a  powder  mine. 

Her  careless  smiles  they  warp  and  scorch 
Mans  heart,  as  fire  the  pine. 

Cuts  keener  than  the  thrust  of  lance 

Her  glance. 

The  trouble  about  this  story  is  that  it  really  has 
no  ending.  Taking  an  ocean  voyage  is  something 
like  picking  up  an  interesting  novel,  and  reading  a 
chapter  in  the  middle  of  it.  The  passenger  on  a 
big  steamer  gets  glimpses  of  other  people's  lives, 
but  he  doesn't  know  what  the  beginning  was,  nor 
what  the  ending  will  be. 

The  last  time  I  saw  Mrs.  Tremain  she  was  look- 
ing over  her  shoulder  and  smiling  at  Glendenning 
as  she  walked  up  the  gangway  plank  at  Liverpool, 
hanging  affectionately  on  the  arm  of  her  husband. 
I  said  to  myself  at  the  time,  "You  silly  little  hand- 
some  idiot,  Lord  only  knows  what  trouble  you  will 
cause  before  flirting  has  lost  its  charm  for  you." 

m 


134 


MRS.    TREMAW. 


m^ »' 


■t 

\mh% 


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li)'4 


Personally  I  would  like  to  have  shoved  Glenden- 
ning  off  the  gangway  plank  into  the  dark  Mersey ; 
but  that  would  have  been  against  the  laws  of  the 
country  on  which  we  were  then  landing. 

Mrs.  Tremain  was  a  woman  whom  other  women 
did  not  like,  and  whom  men  did.  Glendenning  was 
a  man  that  the  average  man  detested,  but  he  was  a 
great  favorite  with  the  ladies. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  sensation  Mrs.  Tremain 
caused  when  she  first  entered  the  saloon  of  our 
steamer.  I  wish  I  were  able  to  describe  accurately 
just  how  she  was  dressed ;  for  her  dress,  of  course, 
had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  her  appearance,  not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  she  was  one  of  the  loveli- 
est women  I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  But  it  would 
require  a  woman  to  describe  her  dress  with  accu- 
racy, and  I  am  afraid  any  woman  who  was  on  board 
the  steamer  that  trip  would  decline  to  help  me. 
Women  were  in  the  habit  of  sniffing  when  Mrs. 
Tremain's  name  was  mentioned.  Much  can  be 
expressed  by  a  woman's  sniff.  All  that  I  can  say 
about  Mrs.  Tremain's  dress  is  that  it  was  of  some 
dark  material,  brightly  shot  with  threads  of  gold,  and 
that  she  had  looped  in  some  way,  over  her  shoul- 
ders and  around  her  waist,  a  very  startlingly  colored 
silken  scarf,  while  over  her  hair  was  thrown  a  black 
lace  arrangement  that  reached  down  nearly  to  her 


MRS.    TREMAIN. 


n% 


feet,  giving  her  a  half-Spanish  appearance.  A  mili- 
tary-looking gentleman,  at  least  twice  her  age,  was 
walking  beside  her.  He  was  as  grave  and  sober  as 
she  appeared  light  and  frivolous,  and  she  walked  by 
his  side  with  a  peculiar  elastic  step,  that  seemed 
hardly  to  touch  the  carpet,  laughing  and  talking  to 
him  just  as  if  fifty  pair  of  eyes  were  not  riveted 
upon  her  as  the  pair  entered.  Everybody  thought 
her  a  Spanish  woman ;  but,  as  it  turned  out  after- 
ward, she  was  of  Spanish-Mexican-American  origin, 
and  whatever  beauty  there  is  in  those  three  nation- 
alities seemed  to  be  blended  in  some  subtle,  per- 
fectly indescribable  way  in  the  face  and  figure  of 
Mrs.  Tremain. 

The  grave,  military-looking  gentleman  at  her  side 
was  Captain  Tremain,  her  husband,  although  in 
reality  he  was  old  enough  to  be  her  father.  He 
was  a  captain  in  the  United  States  Army,  and  had 
been  stationed  at  some  fort  near  the  Mexican  bor- 
der where  he  met  the  young  girl  whom  he  made  his 
wife.  She  had  seen  absolutely  nothing  of  the 
world,  and  they  were  now  on  their  wedding  trip  to 
Europe,  the  first  holiday  he  had  taken  for  many  a 
year. 

In  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  Mrs.  Tre- 
main was  the  acknowledged  belle  of  the  ship.  She 
could  not  have  been  more  than  nineteen  or  twenty 


136 


MRS.   TREMAIN. 


[^l>i|Kt"*' 


years  of  age,  yet  she  was  as  perfectly  at  her  ease, 
and  as  thoroughly  a  lady  as  if  she  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  palaces  and  castles  for  years.  It  was 
astonishing  to  see  how  naturally  she  took  to  it. 
She  had  lived  all  her  life  in  a  rough  village  in  the 
wilds  of  the  Southwest,  yet  she  had  the  bearing  of 
a  duchess  or  a  queen. 

The  second  day  out  she  walked  the  deck  with  the 
captain,  which,  as  everybody  knows,  is  a  very  great 
honor.  She  always  had  a  crowd  of  men  around 
her,  and  apparently  did  net  care  the  snap  of  her 
pretty  fingers  whether  a  woman  on  board  spoke  to 
her  or  not.  Her  husband  was  one  <  those  slow- 
going,  sterling  men  whom  you  meet  i  .  and  again, 
with  no  nonsense  about  him,  and  with  a  perfect 
trust  in  his  young  wife.  He  was  delighted  to  see 
her  enjoying  her  voyage  so  well,  and  proud  of  the 
universal  court  that  was  paid  to  her.  It  was  quite 
evident  to  everybody  on  board  but  himself  that 
Mrs.  Tremain  was  a  born  coquette,  and  the  way  she 
could  use  those  dark,  languishing,  Spanish-Mexican 
eyes  of  hers  was  a  lesson  to  flirts  all  the  world  over. 
It  didn't,  apparently,  so  much  matter  as  long  as  her 
smiles  were  distributed  pretty  evenly  over  the 
whole  masculine  portion  of  the  ship.  But  by  and 
by  things  began  to  simmer  down  until  the  smiles 
were  concentrated  on  the  most  utterly  objection- 


MRS.    TREMAIN. 


137 


able  man  on  board — Glendenning.  She  walked  the 
deck  with  him,  she  sat  in  cozy  corners  of  the  saloon 
with  him,  when  there  were  not  many  people  there, 
and  at  night  they  placed  their  chairs  in  a  little  cor- 
ner of  the  deck  where  the  electric  light  did  not 
shine.  One  by  one  the  other  admirers  dropped  off, 
and  left  her  almost  entirely  to  Glendenning. 

Of  all  those  of  us  who  were  deserted  by  Mrs. 
Tremain  none  took  it  so  hard  as  young  Howard  of 
Brooklyn.  I  liked  Howard,  for  he  was  so  palpably 
and  irretrievably  young,  through  no  fault  of  his 
own,  and  so  thoroughly  ashamed  of  it.  He  wished 
to  be  considered  a  man  of  the  world,  and  he  had 
grave  opinions  on  great  questions,  and  his  opinions 
were  ever  so  much  more  settled  and  firm  than  those 
of  us  older  people. 

Young  Howard  confided  a  good  deal  in  me,  and 
even  went  so  far  one  time  as  to  ask  if  I  thought  he 
appeared  very  young,  and  if  I  would  believe  he  was 
really  as  old  as  he  stated. 

I  told  him  frankly  I  had  taken  him  to  be  a  very 
much  older  man  than  that,  and  the  only  thing 
about  him  I  didn't  like  was  a  certain  cynicism  and 
knowledge  of  the  world  which  didn't  look  well  in  a 
man  who  ought  to  be  thinking  about  the  serious 
things  of  life.  After  this  young  Howard  confided 
in  me  even  more  than  before.    He  said  that  he 


.si: 


138 


Af/fS.    TREMAIN. 


I 

I: 


I: 


m 


I 


didn't  care  for  Mrs.  Tremain  in  that  sort  of  way  at 
all.  She  was  simply  an  innocent  child,  with  no 
knowledge  of  the  world  whatever,  such  as  he  and 
I  possessed.  Her  husband — and  in  this  I  quite 
agreed  with  him — had  two  bad  qualities:  in  the 
first  place  he  was  too  easy-going  at  the  present,  and 
in  the  second  place  he  was  one  of  those  quiet  men 
who  would  do  something  terrible  if  once  he  were 
aroused. 

One  day,  as  young  Howard  and  I  walked  the 
deck  together,  he  burst  out  with  this  extraordinary 
sentiment : 

"All  women,"  he  said,  "are  canting  hypocrites." 

"When  a  man  says  that,"  I  answered,  "he  means 
some  particular  woman.  What  woman  have  you  in 
your  eye,  Howard?" 

"No,  I  mean  all  women.  All  the  women  on 
board  this  boat,  for  instance." 

"Except  one,  of  course,"  I  said. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "except  one.  Look  at  the 
generality  of  women,"  he  cried  bitterly ;  "especialh' 
those  who  are  what  they  call  philanthropic  and 
good.  They  will  fuss  and  mourn  over  some 
drunken  wretch  who  cannot  be  reclaimed  and 
would  be  no  use  if  he  could,  and  they  will  spend 
their  time  and  sympathy  over  some  creature  be- 
draggled -  in  the  slums,  whose  only  hope  can  be 


MRS.   TREMAIN. 


139 


I 


death,  and  that  as  soon  as  possible,  yet  not  one  of 
them  will  lift  a  finger  to  save  a  fellow-creature  from 
going  over  the  brink  of  ruin.  They  will  turn  their 
noses  in  the  air  when  a  word  from  them  would  do 
some  good,  and  then  they  will  spend  their  time 
fussing  and  weeping  over  somebody  that  nothing 
on  earth  can  help." 

"Now,  Howard,"  I  said,  "that's  your  cynicism, 
which  I've  so  often  deplored.  Come  down  to  plain 
language,  and  tell  me  what  you  mean." 

"Look  at  the  women  on  board  this  steamer,"  he 
cried  indignantly.  "There's  pretty  little  Mrs.  Tre- 
main,  who  seems  to  have  become  fascinated  by  that 
scoundrel  Glendenning.  Any  person  can  see  what 
kind  of  a  man  he  is — anyone  but  an  innocent  child, 
Guch  as  Mrs.  Tremain  is.  Now,  no  man  can  help. 
What  she  needs  is  some  good,  kindly  woman  to  take 
her  by  the  hand  and  give  her  a  word  of  warning. 
Is  there  a  woman  on  board  of  this  steamer  who 
will  do  it?  Not  one.  They  see  as  plainly  as  any- 
one else  how  things  are  drifting ;  but  it  takes  a  man 
who  has  murdered  his  wife  to  get  sympathy  and 
flowers  from  the  modern  so-called  lady." 

"Didn't  you  ever  hear  of  the  man,  Howard,  who 
made  a  large  sum  of  money,  I  forget  at  the  moment 
exactly  how  much,  by  minding  his  own  busi- 
ness?'* 


t>4<> 


91 1 


frt; 


1^;  i! 


140 


MJiS.   TREMAIN. 


**0h,  yes ;  it's  all  very  well  to  talk  like  that ;  but  I 
would  like  to  pitch  Glendenning  overboard." 

*'I  admit  that  it  would  be  a  desirable  thing  to  do, 
but  if  anybody  is  to  do  it,  it  is  Captain  Tremain 
and  not  you.     Are  you  a  married  man,  Howard?" 

"No,"  answered  Howard,  evidently  very  much 
flattered  by  the  question. 

"Well,  you  see,  a  person  never  can  tell  on  board 
ship ;  but,  if  you  happen  to  be,  it  seems  to  me  that 
you  wouldn't  care  for  any  outsider  to  interfere  in  a 
matter  such  as  we  are  discussing.  At  any  rate  Mrs. 
Tremain  is  ta  married  woman,  and  I  can't  see  what 
interest  you  should  have  in  her.  Take  my  advice 
and  leave  her  alone,  and  if  you  want  to  start  a 
reforming  crusade  among  women,  try  to  convert 
the  rest  of  the  ladies  of  the  ship  to  be  more  charita- 
ble and  speak  the  proper  word  in  time." 

"You  may  sneer  as  much  as  you  like,"  answered 
young  Howard,  "but  I  will  tell  you  what  I  am 
going  to  do.  'Two  is  company,  and  three  is  none* ; 
I'm  going  to  make  the  third,  as  far  as  Mrs.  Tremain 
and  Glendenning  are  concerned." 

'Supposing  she  objects  to  that?" 
'Very  likely  she  will;  I  don't  care.    The  voyage 
lasts  only  a  few  days  longer,  and  I  am  going  to 
make  the  third  party  at  any  tite-h-tite'' 

"Dangerous  business,   Howard;    first  thing  you 


<<( 


«<■ 


MUS.   TREMAIM. 


141 


know,  Glendenning  will  be  wanting  to  throw  you 
overboard." 

"I  would  like  to  see  him  try  It,"  said  the  young 
fellow,  clenching  his  fist. 

And  young  Howard  was  as  good  as  his  word.  It 
was  very  interesting  to  an  onlooker  to  see  the  way 
the  different  parties  took  it.  Mrs.  Tremain  seemed 
to  be  partly  amused  with  the  boy,  and  think  it  all 
rather  good  fun.  Glendenning  scowled  somewhat, 
and  tried  to  be  silent ;  but,  finding  that  made  no 
particular  difference,  began  to  make  allusions  to  the 
extreme  youth  of  young  Howard,  and  seemed  to 
try  to  provoke  him,  which  laudable  intention,  to 
young  Howard's  great  credit,  did  not  succeed. 

One  evening  I  ccime  down  the  forward  narrow 
staircase,  that  leads  to  the  long  corridor  running 
from  the  saloon,  and  met,  under  the  electric  light  at 
the  foot,  Mrs.  Tremain,  young  Howard,  and  Glen- 
denning. They  were  evidently  about  to  ascend  the 
stairway ;  but,  seeing  me  come  down,  they  paused, 
and  I  stopped  for  a  moment  to  have  a  chat  with 
them,  and  see  how  things  were  going  on. 

Glendenning  said,  addressing  me,  "Don't  you 
think  it's  time  for  children  to  be  in  bed?" 

"If  you  mean  me,"  I  answered,  "I  am  just  on  my 
way  there." 

Mrs.  Tremain  and  young  Howard  laughed,  and 


■4 


4 


I 


I 


I3i 


I 


142 


MRS.  TREMAIN. 


Glendenning  after  that  ignored  both  Howard  and 
myself. 

He  said  to  Mrs.  Tremain,  "I  never  noticed  you 
wearing  that  ring  before.  It  is  a  very  strange  orna- 
ment." 

"Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Tremain,  turning  it  round 
and  round.  "This  is  a  Mexican  charmed  ring. 
There  is  a  secret  about  it;  see  if  you  can  find  it 
out."  And  with  that  she  pulled  off  the  ring  and 
handed  it  to  Glendenning. 

"You  ought  to  give  it  to  him  as  a  keepsake,"  said 
young  Howard  aggressively.  "The  ring,  I  notice, 
is  a  couple  of  snakes  twisted  together." 

"Little  boys,"  said  Mrs.  Tremain,  laughing, 
"shouldn't  make  remarks  like  that.  They  lead  to 
trouble." 

Young  Howard  flushed  angrily  as  Mrs.  Tremain 
said  this.  He  did  not  seem  to  mind  it  when  Glen- 
denning accused  him  of  his  youth,  but  he  didn't 
like  it  coming  from  her. 

Meanwhile  Glendenning  was  exami'iing  the  ring, 
and  suddenly  it  came  apart  in  his  hand.  The  coils 
of  the  snake  were  still  linked  together,  but  instead 
of  composing  one  solid  ring  they  could  now  be 
spread  several  inches  apart  like  the  links  of  a 
golden  chain.  Mrs.  Tremain  turned  pale,  and  gave 
a  little  shriek,  as  she  saw  this. 


MRS.  TREMAIN. 


143 
it 


"Put    it    together    again,"   she    cried;    "put 
together  quickly." 

"What  is  the  matter?"  said  Glendenning,  looking 
up  at  her.  She  was  standing  two  or  three  steps 
above  him ;  Glendenning  was  at  the  bottom  of  the 
stair;  young  Howard  stood  on  the  same  step  as 
Mrs.  Tremain,-  and  I  was  a  step  or  two  above  them. 

"Put  it  together,"  cried  Mrs.  Tremain  again. 

"I  am  trying  to,"  said  Glendenning,  "is  there  a 
spring  somewhere?" 

"Oh,  I  cannot  tell  you,"  she  answered,  nervously 
clasping  and  unclasping  her  hands ;  "but  if  you  do 
not  put  it  together  without  help,  that  means  very 
great  ill-luck  for  both  you  and  me." 

"Does  it?"  said  Glendenning,  look'jig  up  at  her 
with  a  peculiar  glance,  quite  ign  ;ring  our  pres- 
ence. 

"Yes,  it  does,"  she  said;  "try  your  best  to  put 
that  ring  together  as  you  found  it."  It  was  quite 
evident  that  Mrs.  Tremain  had  all  the  superstition 
of  Mexico. 

Glendenning  fumbled  with  the  ring  one  way  and 
another,  and  finally  said,  "I  cannot  put  it  together." 

"Let  me  try,"  said  young  Howard. 

"No,  no,  that  will  do  no  good."  Saying  which 
Mrs.  Tremain  snatched  the  links  from  Glendenning, 
slipped  them  into  one  ring  again,  put  it  on  her  fin- 


,if: 


it-:: '; 


144 


MRS.   TREMAIN. 


;W 


i.'rl  ■; 


M^.     ':, 


ger,  and  dashed  quickly  up  the  stairs  without  say- 
ing a  word  of  good-night  to  any  of  us. 

Glendenning  was  about  to  proceed  up  the  stair 
after  her,  when  young  Howard  very  ostentatiously 
placed  himself  directly  in  his  path.  Glendenning 
seemed  to  hesitate  for  a  moment,  then  thought 
better  of  it,  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  down 
the  passage  toward  the  saloon. 

"Look  here,  Howard,"  I  said,  "you  are  going  to 
get  yourself  into  trouble.  There's  sure  to  be  a  fuss 
on  board  this  steamer  before  we  reach  Liverpool." 

"I  wouldn't  be  at  all  surprised,"  answered  young 
Howard. 

"Well,  do  you  think  it  will  be  quite  fair  to  Mrs. 
Tremain  ?" 

**0h,  I  shan't  bring  her  name  into  the  matter." 

"The  trouble  will  be  to  keep  her  name  out.  It 
may  not  be  in  your  power  to  do  that.  A  person 
who  interferes  in  other  people's  affairs  must  do  so 
with  tact  and  caution." 

Young  Howard  looked  up  at  me  with  a  trace  of 
resentment  in  his  face.  "Aren't  you  interfering 
now?"  he  said. 

"You  are  quite  right ;  I  am.  Good-night."  And 
I  went  up  the  stairway.  Howard  shouted  after  me, 
but  I  did  not  see  him  again  that  night. 

Next  day  we  were  nearing  Queenstown,  and,  as  I 


MRS.   TREMAIN. 


M5 


had  letters  to  write,  I  saw  nothing  of  young  How- 
ard till  the  evening.  I  found  him  unreasonably 
contrite  for  what  he  had  said  to  me  the  night 
before ;  and  when  I  told  him  he  had  merely  spoken 
the  truth,  and  was  quite  justified  in  doing  so,  he 
seemed  more  miserable  than  ever. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "let  us  have  a  walk  on  the 
deck." 

It  was  between  nine  and  ten  o'clock;  and  when 
we  got  out  on  the  deck,  I  said  to  him,  "Without 
wishing  to  interfere  any  further " 

"Now,  don't  say  that,"  he  cried;  "it  is  cruel." 

"Well,  I  merely  wanted  to  know  where  your  two 
charges  are.'* 

"I  don't  know,"  he  answered,  in  a  husky  whisper; 
"they  are  not  in  the  usual  corner  to-night,  and  I 
don't  know  where  they  are." 

"She  is  probably  with  her  husband,"  I  suggested. 

"No,  he  is  down  in  the  saloon  reading." 

As  young  Howard  was  somewhat  prone  to  get 
emphatic  when  he  began  to  talk  upon  this  subject, 
and  as  there  was  always  a  danger  of  other  people 
overhearing  what  he  said,  I  drew  him  away  to  a 
more  secluded  part  of  the  ship.  On  this  particular 
boat  there  was  a  wheelhouse  aft  unused,  and  gener- 
ally filled  up  with  old  steamer  chairs.  A  narrow 
passage  led  around  this  at  the  curving  stern,  seldom 


ii 


i! 


146 


M/^S.   TREMAIN. 


|';i;i    f 


I'']! 


I 

I 


fi'^K 


''1 


used  by  promenaders  because  of  certain  obstruc^ 
tions  which,  in  the  dark,  were  apt  to  trip  a  person 
up.  Chains  or  something  went  from  this  wheel- 
house  to  the  sides  of  the  ship,  and,  being  covered 
up  by  boxes  of  plank,  made  this  part  of  the  deck 
hard  to  travel  on  in  the  dark.  As  we  went  around 
this  narrow  passage  young  Howard  was  the  first  to 
stop.  He  clutched  my  arm,  but  said  nothing. 
There  in  the  dark  was  the  faint  outline  of  two  per- 
sons, with  their  backs  toward  us,  leaning  over  the 
stern  of  the  ship.  The  vibration  at  this  part  of  the 
boat,  from  the  throbbing  of  the  screw,  made  it  im- 
possible for  them  to  hear  our  approach.  They 
doubtless  thought  they  were  completely  in  the 
dark ;  but  they  were  deluded  in  that  idea,  because 
the  turmoil  of  the  water  left  a  brilliant  phosphores- 
cent belt  far  in  the  rear  of  the  ship,  and  against  this 
bright,  faintly  yellow  luminous  track  their  forms 
were  distinctly  outlined.  It  needed  no  second 
glance  to  see  that  the  two  were  Glendenning  and 
Mrs.  Tremain.  Her  head  rested  on  his  shoulder, 
and  his  arm  was  around  her  waist. 

"Let  us  get  back,"  I  said  in  a  whisper;  and, 
somewhat  to  my  surprise,  young  Howard  turned 
back  with  me.  I  felt  his  hand  trembling  on  my 
arm,  but  he  said  nothing.  Before  we  could  say  a 
word  to  each  other  a  sudden  and  unexpected  com- 


MRS.  TREMAIN. 


147 


plication  arose.  We  met  Captain  Tremain,  with  a 
shawl  on  his  arm,  coming  toward  us. 

"Good-evening,  Captain,"  I  said ;  "have  a  turn  on 
the  deck  with  us?" 

"No,  thanks,"  he  replied,  "I  am  looking  for  my 
wife.  I  want  to  give  her  this  shawl  to  put  over  her 
shoulders.  She  is  not  accustomed  to  such  chilly 
weather  as  we  are  now  running  into,  and  I  am 
afraid  she  may  take  cold." 

All  this  time  young  Howard  stood  looking  at  him 
with  a  startled  expression  in  his  eyes,  and  his  lower 
jaw  dropped.  I  was  afraid  Captain  Tremain  would 
see  him,  and  wonder  what  was  the  matter  with  the 
boy.  I  tried  to  bring  him  to  himself  by  stamping 
my  heel — not  too  gently — on  his  toes,  but  he 
turned  his  face  in  the  semi-darkness  toward  me 
without  changing  its  expression.  The  one  idea 
that  had  taken  possession  of  my  mind  was  that 
Captain  Tremain  must  not  be  allowed  to  go  further 
aft  than  he  was,  and  I  tried  by  looks  and  nudges  to 
tell  young  Howard  to  go  back  and  give  her  warn- 
ing, but  the  boy  seemed  to  be  completely  dazed 
with  the  unexpected  horror  of  the  situation.  To 
have  this  calm,  stern,  unsuspecting  man  come  sud- 
denly upon  what  we  had  seen  at  the  stern  of  the 
boat  was  simply  appalling  to  think  of.  He  cer^ 
tainly  would  have    killed    Glendenning    where  he 


%l 


1  ■ 


I* 

i 


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I 


^ 


F   I 


148 


iV^S:   TREMAIN. 


stood,  and  very  likely  Mrs.  Tremain  as  well.  As 
Captain  Tremain  essayed  to  pass  us  I  collected  my 
wits  as  well  as  I  could,  and  said : 

"Oh,  by  the  way,  captain,  I  wanted  to  speak  to 
you  about  Mexico.  Do  you — do  you — think  that 
it  is  a  good — er — place  for  investment?" 

"Well,"  said  Captain  Tremain,  pausing,  "I  am 
not  so  sure  about  that.  You  see,  their  Government 
is  so  very  unstable.  The  country  itself  is  rich 
enough  in  mineral  wealth,  if  that  is  what  you 
mean." 

All  the  while  Howard  stood  there  with  his  mouth 
agape,  and  I  felt  like  shoving  my  fist  into  it. 

"Here,  Howard,"  I  said,  "I  want  to  speak  to  Cap- 
tain Tremain  for  a  moment.  Take  this  shawl  and 
find  Mrs.  Tremain,  and  give  it  to  her."  Saying 
this,  I  took  the  shawl  from  the  captain's  arm  and 
threw  it  at  young  Howard.  He  appeared  then  to 
realize,  for  the  first  time,  what  was  expected  of 
him,  and,  giving  me  a  grateful  look,  disappeared 
toward  the  stern. 

"What  I  wanted  more  particularly  to  know  about 
Mexico,"  I  said  to  the  captain,  who  made  no  objec- 
tion to  this  move,  "was  whether  there  would  be  any 
more — well,  likely  to  have  trouble — whether  we 
would  have  trouble  with  them  in  a  military  way, 
you  know-7-that's  more  in  your  line."  , 


MRS.   TREMAIN. 


149 


"Oh,  I  think  not,"  said  the  captain.  "Of  course, 
on  the  boundary  where  we  were,  there  was  always 
more  or  less  trouble  with  border  ruffians,  sometimes 
on  one  side  of  the  line  and  sometimes  on  the  other. 
There  is  a  possibility  always  that  complications 
may  arise  from  that  sort  of  thing.  Our  officers 
might  go  over  into  the  Mexican  territory  and  seize  a 
desperado  there,  or  they  might  come  over  into  ours. 
Still,  I  don't  think  anything  will  happen  to  bring 
on  a  war  such  as  we  had  once  or  twice  with 
Mexico." 

At  this  moment  I  was  appalled  to  hear  Glenden- 
ning's  voice  ring  out  above  the  noise  of  the  vibra- 
tion of  the  vessel. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that,  you  scoundrel?"  he 
said. 

"Hallo,"  exclaimed  the  captain,  "there  seems  to 
be  a  row  back  there.     I  wonder  what  it  is?" 

"Oh,  nothing  serious,  I  imagine.  Probably  some 
steerage  passengers  have  come  on  the  cabin  deck.  I 
heard  them  having  a  row  with  someone  to-day  on 
that  score.    Let's  walk  away  from  it." 

The  captain  took  my  arm,  and  we  strolled  along 
the  deck  while  he  gave  me  a  great  deal  of  valuable 
information  about  Mexico  and  the  state  of  things 
along  the  border  line,  which  I  regret  to  say  I  can- 
not remember  a  word   of.    The   impressions  of  a 


1^ 


F 


^M 


i 


'50 


UJIS.  TREMAW. 


man  who  has  been  on  the  spot  are  always  worth 
hearing,  but  my  ears  were  strained  to  catch  a  repe- 
tition of  the  angry  cry  I  had  heard,  or  the  continua- 
tion of  the  quarrel  which  it  certainly  seemed  to  be 
the  beginning  of.  As  we  came  up  the  deck  again 
we  met  young  Howard  with  the  shawl  still  on  his 
arm  and  Mrs.  Tremain  walking  beside  him.  She 
was  laughing  in  a  somewhat  hysterical  manner,  and 
his  face  was  as  pale  as  ashes  with  a  drawn  look 
about  the  corners  of  his  lips,  but  the  captain's  eyes 
were  only  on  his  wife. 

"Why  don't  you  put  on  the  shawl,  my  dear?"  he 
said  to  her  affectionately. 

"The  shawl?"  she  answered.  Then,  seeing  it  on 
young  Howard's  arm,  she  laughed,  and  said,  "  He 
never  offered  it  to  me." 

Young  Howard  made  haste  to  place  the  shawl  on 
her  shoulders,  which  she  arranged  around  herself  in 
a  very  coquettish  and  charming  way.  Then  she 
took  her  husband's  arm. 

"Good-night,"  she  said  to  me;  "good-night,  and 
thanks,  Mr.  Howard." 

* 'Good-night,"  said  the  captain;  "I  will  tell  you 
more  about  that  mine  to-morrow." 

We  watched  them  disappear  toward  the  compan- 
ion way.  I  drew  young  Howard  toward  the  side  of 
the  boat. 


MRS.   TREMAIN. 


151 


"What  happened?"  I  asked  eagerly.  "Did  you 
have  trouble?" 

"Very  nearly ;  I  made  a  slip  of  the  tongue.  I 
called  her  Mrs.  Glendenning." 

"You  called  her  what  ?  " 

"I  said,  'Mrs.  Glendenning,  your  husband  is  look- 
ing for  you.*  I  had  come  right  up  behind  them, 
and  they  hadn't  heard  me,  and  of  course  both  were 
very  much  startled.  Glendenning  turned  round 
and  shouted,  'What  do  you  mean  by  that,  you 
scoundrel?*  and  caught  me  by  the  throat.  She 
instantly  sprang  between  us,  pushing  him  toward 
the  stern  of  the  boat,  and  me  against  the  wheel- 
house. 

'"Hush,  hush,*  she  whispered;  'you  mean,  Mr. 
Howard,  that  my  husband  is  there,  do  you  not?* 

"  'Yes,*  I  answered,  'and  he  will  be  here  in  a  mo- 
ment unless  you  come  with  me.*  With  that  she 
said  'Good  night,  Mr.  Glendenning,'  and  tooklny 
arm,  and  he,  like  a  thief,  slunk  away  round  the 
other  side  of  the  wheelhouse.  I  was  very  much 
agitated.  I  suppose  I  acted  like  a  fool  when  we 
met  the  captain,  didn't  I?'* 

"You  did,"  I  answered;  "go  on.** 

"Well,  Mrs.  Tremain  saw  that,  and  she  laughed 
at  me,  although  I  could  see  she  was  rather  dis- 
turbed herself." 


152 


MRS.   TREMAIN. 


m% 


Some  time  that  night  we  touched  at  Queenstown, 
and  next  evening  we  were  in  Liverpool.  When  the 
inevitable  explosion  came,  I  have  no  means  of 
knowing,  and  this,  as  I  have  said  before,  is  a  story 
without  a  conclusion. 

Mrs.  Tremain  the  next  day  was  as  bright  and 
jolly  as  ever,  and  the  last  time  I  saw  her,  she  was 
smiling  over  her  shoulder  at  Glendenning,  and  not 
paying  the  slightest  attention  to  either  her  husband, 
on  whose  arm  she  hung,  or  to  young  Howard,  who 
was  hovering  near. 


V.V- 


tf 


SHARE  AND  SHARE 
ALIKE. 


The  quick  must  haste  to  vengeance  taste, 
For  time  is  on  his  head  ; 
But  he  can  wait  at  the  door  of  fate, 
Though  the  stay  be  long  and  the  hour  be  late — 
The  dead. 

Melville  Hardlock  stood  in  the  center  of  the 
room  with  his  feet  wide  apart  and  his  hands  in  his 
trousers  pockets,  a  characteristic  attitude  of  his. 
He  gave  a  quick  glance  at  the  door,  and  saw  with 
relief  that  the  key  was  in  the  lock,  and  that  the 
bolt  prevented  anybody  coming  in  unexpectedly. 
Then  he  gazed  once  more  at  the  body  of  his  friend, 
which  lay  in  such  a  helpless-looking  attitude  upon 
the  floor.  He  looked  at  the  body  with  a  feeling  of 
mild  curiosity,  and  wondered  what  there  was  about 
the  lines  of  the  figure  on  the  floor  that  so  certainly 
betokened  death  rather  than  sleep,  even  though  the 
face  was  turned  away  from  him.  He  thought,  per- 
haps, it  might  be  the  hand  with  its  back  to  the  floor 

m 


154 


SHARE  AND  SHARE  ALIKE . 


and  its  palm  toward  the  ceiling ;  there  was  a  certain 
look  of  helplessness  about  that.  He  resolved  to 
investigate  the  subject  some  time  when  he  had 
leisure. 

Then  his  thoughts  turned  toward  the  subject  of 
murder.  It  was  so  easy  to  kill,  he  felt  no  pride  in 
having  been  able  to  accomplish  that  much.  But 
it  was  not  everybody  who  could  escape  the  conse- 
quences of  his  crime.  It  required  an  acute  brain  to 
plan  after-events  so  that  shrewd  detectives  would 
be  baffled.  There  was  a  complacent  conceit  about 
Melville  Hardlock,  which  was  as  much  a  part  of 
him  as  his  intense  selfishness,  and  this  conceit  led 
him  to  believe  that  the  future  path  he  had  outlined 
for  himself  would  not  be  followed  by  justice. 

With  a  sigh  Melville  suddenly  seemed  to  realize 
that  while  there  v/as  no  necessity  for  undue  haste, 
yet  it  was  not  wise  to  be  too  leisurely  in  some 
things,  so  he  took  his  hands  from  his  pockets  and 
drew  to  the  middle  of  the  floor  a  large  Saratoga 
trunk.  He  threw  the  heavy  lid  open,  and  in  doing 
so  showed  that  the  trunk  was  empty.  Picking  up 
the  body  of  his  friend,  which  he  was  surprised  to 
note  was  so  heavy  and  troublesome  to  handle,  he 
with  some  difficulty  doubled  it  up  so  that  it  slipped 
into  the  trunk.  He  piled  on  top  of  it  some  old 
coats,   vests,  newspapers,  and  other  miscellaneous 


I  I, 


SHARE  AND  SHARE  ALIKE. 


155 


articles  until  the  space  above  the  body  was  filled. 
Then  he  pressed  down  the  lid  and  locked  it ;  fasten- 
ing the  catches  at  each  end.  Two  stout  straps 
were  now  placed  around  the  trunk  and  firmly 
buckled  after  he  had  drawn  them  as  tight  as  possi- 
ble. Finally  he  damped  the  gum  side  of  a  paper 
label,  and  when  he  had  pasted  it  on  the  end  of 
the  trunk,  it  showed  the  words  in  red  letters, 
"S.  S.  Platonic,  cabin,  wanted."  This  done,  Mel- 
ville threw  open  the  window  to  allow  the  fumes  of 
chloroform  to  dissipate  themselves  in  the  outside 
air.  He  placed  a  closed,  packed,  and  labeled  port- 
manteau beside  the  trunk,  and  a  valise  beside  that 
again,  which,  with  a  couple  of  handbags,  made  up 
his  luggage.  Then  he  unlocked  the  door,  threw 
back  the  bolt,  and,  having  turned  the  key  again 
from  the  outside,  strode  down  the  thickly-carpeted 
stairs  of  the  hotel  into  the  large  pillared  and 
marble-floored  vestibule  where  the  clerk's  office  was. 
Strolling  up  to  the  counter  behind  which  stood  the 
clerk  of  the  hotel,  he  shoved  his  key  across  to  that 
functionary,  who  placed  it  in  the  pigeon-hole 
marked  by  the  number  of  his  room. 

"Did  my  friend  leave  for  the  West  last  night,  do 
you  know?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  clerk,  "he  paid  his  bill  and 
left.     Haven't  you  seen  him  since?" 


t'lf  ■ 


«{ 


Hi'j 

^i  ■ 
4^ 


■i        I 


i     <        ! 


t56 


SHARE  AND  SHARE  ALIKE. 


•  <i 


'No,"  replied  Hardlock. 

"Well,  he'll  be  disappointed  about  that,  because 
he  told  me  he  expected  to  see  you  before  he  left, 
and  would  call  up  at  your  room  later.  I  suppose 
he  didn't  have  time.  By  the  way,  he  said  you  were 
going  back  to  England  to-morrow.     Is  that  so?" 

"Yes,  I  sail  on  the  Platonic.  I  suppose  I  can 
have  my  luggage  sent  to  the  steamer  from  here 
without  further  trouble?" 

"Oh,  certainly,"  answered  the  clerk;  "how  many 
pieces  are  there?     It  will  be  fifty  cents  each." 

"Very  well;  just  put  that  down  in  my  bill  with 
the  rest  of  the  expenses,  and  let  me  have  it  to- 
night. I  will  settle  when  I  come  in.  Five  pieces 
of  luggage  altogether." 

"Very  good.  You'll  have  breakfast  to-morrow,  1 
suppose?" 

"Yes,  the  boat  does  not  leave  till  nine  o'clock." 

"Very  well;  better  call  you  about  seven,  Mr. 
Hardlock.     Will  you  have  a  carriage?" 

"No,  I  shall  walk  down  to  the  boat.  You  will  be 
sure,  of  course,  to  have  my  things  there  in  time." 

"Oh,  no  fear  of  that.  They  will  be  on  the 
steamer  by  half-past  eight." 

"Thank  you." 

As  Mr.  Hardlock  walked  down  to  the  boat  next 
morning,  he  thought  he  had  done  rather  a  clever 


SHARE  AND  SHARE  ALIKE. 


157 


thing  in  sending  his  trunk  in  the  ordinary  way  to 
the  steamer.  "Most  people,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"would  have  made  the  mistake  of  being  too  careful 
about  it.  It  goes  along  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
business.  If  anything  should  go  wrong  it  will  seem 
incredible  that  a  sane  man  would  send  such  a  pack- 
age in  an  ordinary  express  wagon  to  be  dumped 
about,  as  they  do  dump  luggage  about  in  New 
York." 

He  stood  by  the  gangway  on  the  steamer,  watch- 
ing  the  trunks,  valises,  and  portmanteaus  come  on 
board. 

"Stop!"  he  cried  to  the  man,  "that  is  not  to  go 
down  in  the  hold ;  I  want  it.  Don't  you  see  it's 
marked 'wanted'?" 

"It  is  very  large,  sir,"  said  the  man;  "it  will  fill 
up  a  stateroom  by  itself.'* 

"I  have  the  captain's  room,"  was  the  answer. 

So  the  man  flung  the  trunk  down  on  the  deck 
with  a  crash  that  made  even  the  cool  Mr.  Hardlock 
shudder. 

"Did  you  say  you  had  the  captain's  room,  sir?" 
asked  the  steward  standing  near. 

"Yes." 

"Then  I  am  your  bedroom  steward,"  was  the 
answer;  "I  will  see  that  the  trunk  is  put  in  all 
right." 


Ik 


*9 


),; 


t /' " 


■*!: 


158 


SHARE  AND  SHARE  ALIKE. 


The  first  day  out  was  rainy  but  not  rough ;  the 
second  day  was  fair  and  the  sea  smooth.  The  sec- 
ond night  Hardlock  remained  in  the  smoking  room 
until  the  last  man  had  left.  Then,  when  the  lights 
were  extinguished,  he  went  out  on  the  upper  deck, 
where  his  room  was,  and  walked  up  and  down 
smoking  his  cigar.  There  was  another  man  also 
walking  the  deck,  and  the  red  glow  of  his  cigar,  dim 
and  bright  alternately,  shone  in  the  darkness  like  a 
glowworm. 

Hardlock  wished  that  he  would  turn  in,  whoever 
he  was.  Finally  the  man  flung  his  cigar  overboard 
and  went  down  the  stairway.  Hardlock  had  now 
the  dark  deck  to  himself.  He  pushed  open  the 
door  of  his  room  and  turned  out  the  electric  light. 
It  was  only  a  few  steps  from  his  door  to  the  rail  of 
the  vessel  high  above  the  water.  Dimly  on  the 
bridge  he  saw  the  shadowy  figure  of  an  officer  walk- 
ing back  and  forth.  Hardlock  looked  over  the  side 
at  the  phosphorescent  glitter  of  the  water  which 
made  the  black  ocean  seem  blacker  still.  The 
sharp  ring  of  the  bell,  betokening  midnight,  made 
Melville  start  as  if  a  hand  had  touched  him,  and  the 
quick  beating  of  his  heart  took  some  moments  to 
subside.  "I've  been  smoking  too  much  to-day,"  he 
said  to  himself.  Then  looking  quickly  up  and 
down  the  deck,  he  walked  on  tiptoe  to  his  room, 


SHARE  AND  SHARE  ALIKE, 


«59 


took  the  trunk  by  its  stout  leather  handle  and 
pulled  it  over  the  ledge  in  the  doorway.  There 
were  small  wheels  at  the  bottom  of  the  trunk,  but 
although  they  made  the  pulling  of  it  easy,  they 
seemed  to  creak  with  appalling  loudness.  He  real- 
ized the  fearful  weight  of  the  trunk  as  he  lifted  the 
end  of  it  up  on  the  rail.  He  balanced  it  there  for  a 
moment,  and  glanced  sharply  around  him,  but  there 
was  nothing  to  alarm  him.  In  spite  of  his  natural 
coolness,  he  felt  a  strange,  haunting  dread  of  some 
undefinable  disaster,  a  dread  which  had  been  com- 
pletely absent  from  him  at  the  time  he  committed 
the  murder.  He  shoved  off  the  trunk  before  he 
had  quite  intended  to  do  so,  and  the  next  instant 
he  nearly  bit  through  his  tongue  to  suppress  a 
groan  of  agony.  There  passed  half  a  dozen  mo- 
ments of  supreme  pain  and  fear  before  he  realized 
what  had  happened.  His  wrist  had  caught  in  the 
strap  handle  of  the  trunk,  and  his  shoulder  was  dis- 
located. His  right  arm  was  stretched  taut  and 
helpless,  like  a  rope  holding  up  the  frightful  and 
ever-increasing  weight  that  hung  between  him  and 
the  sea.  His  breast  was  pressed  against  the  rail, 
and  his  left  hand  gripped  the  iron  stanchion  to  keep 
himself  from  going  over.  He  felt  that  his  feet  were 
slipping,  and  he  set  his  teeth  and  gripped  the  iron 
with  a  grasp  that  was  itself  like  iron.     He  hoped 


j6o 


SHARE  AND  SHARE  ALIKE. 


%  i  T*'*    !i 


■i   i 


the  trunk  would  slip  from  his  useless  wrist,  but  it 
rested  against  the  side  of  the  vessel,  and  the  longer 
it  hung  the  more  it  pressed  the  hard  strap  handle 
into  his  nerveless  flesh.  He  had  realized  from  the 
first  that  he  dare  not  cry  for  help,  and  his  breath 
came  hard  through  his  clenched  teeth  as  the  weight 
grew  heavier  and  heavier.  Then,  with  his  eyes 
strained  by  the  fearful  pressure,  and  perhaps 
dazzled  by  the  glittering  phosphorescence  running 
so  swiftly  by  the  side  of  the  steamer  far  below,  he 
seemed  to  see  from  out  the  trunk  something  in  the 
form  and  semblance  of  his  dead  friend  quivering 
like  summer  heat  below  him.  Sometimes  it  was 
the  shimmering  phosphorescence,  then  again  it  was 
the  wraith  hovering  over  the  trunk.  Hardlock,  in 
spite  of  his  agony,  wondered  which  it  really  was , 
but  he  wondered  no  longer  when  it  spoke  to  him. 

"Old  friend,"  it  said,  "you  remember  our  compact 
when  we  left  England.  It  was  to  be  'share  and 
share  alike,'  my  boy — 'share  and  share  alike.*  I 
have  had  my  share.     Come  !'* 

Then  on  the  still  night  air  came  the  belated  cry 
for  help,  but  it  was  after  the  foot  had  slipped  and 
the  hand  had  been  wrenched  from  the  iron 
stanchion. 


(, , 


AN   INTERNATIONAL 

ROW. 


"  A  simple  child 
That  lightly  draws  its  breath, 
And  feels  its  life  in  every  limb. 
What  should  it  know  of "  kicking  up  a  row. 

(Note.— Only  the  last  four  words  of  the  above  poem  are  claimed 
as  original.) 

"  Then  America  declared  war  on  England." — History  of  i8i2. 

Lady,  not  feeling  particularly  well,  reclining  in  a 
steamer  chair,  covered  up  with  rugs.  Little  girl 
beside  her,  who  wants  to  know.  Gentleman  in  an 
adjoining  steamer  chair.  The  little  girl  begins  to 
speak. 

"And  do  you  have  to  pay  to  go  in,  mamma?" 

"Yes,  dear." 

"How  much  do  you  have  to  pay?  As  much  as 
at  a  theater?" 

"Oh,  you  need  not  pay  anything  particular — no 
set  sum,  you  know.  You  pay  just  what  you  can 
afford." 

z6i 


] 


1) 


IM     * 


'I 

I*    ' 


I 


I 


1§      ' 


U 


162 


AN  INTERNA  TIONAL  ROW. 


*t' 


*t' 


**i 


'Then  it's  like  a  collection  at  church,  mamma?" 

"Yes,  dear." 

"And  does  the  captain  get  the  money,  mamma?" 

"No,  dear;  the  money  goes  to  the  poor  orphans, 
I  think." 

"Where  are  the  orphans,  mamma?" 

"I  don't  know,  dear;  I  think  they  are  in  Liver- 
pool." 

"Whose  orphans  are  they,  mamma?" 
'They  are  the  orphans  of  sailors,  dear." 
'What  kind  of  sailors,  mamma?" 
'British  sailors,  darling." 
'Aren't  there  any  sailors  in  America,  mamma?" 

'Oh,  yes,  dear ;  lots  of  them." 

"And  do  they  have  any  orphans?" 

"Yes,  dear;  I  suppose  there  are  orphans  there 
too." 

"And  don't  they  get  any  of  the  money, 
mamma?" 

"I  am  sure  I  do  not  know,  dear.  By  the  way, 
Mr.  Daveling,  how  is  that?  Do  they  give  any  of 
the  money  to  American  orphans?" 

"I  believe  not,  madam.  Subcriptions  at  concerts 
given  on  board  British  steamers  are  of  course 
donated  entirely  to  the  Seamen's  Hospital  or 
Orphanage  of  Liverpool." 

"Well,  that  doesn't  seem  to  be  quite  fair,  does  it? 


AN  INTERNATIONAL  ROiV. 


163 


\** 


A  great  deal  of  the  money  is  subscribed  by  Ameri- 
cans." 

"Yes,  madam,  that  is  perfectly  true." 

"I  should  think  that  ten  Americans  cross  on 
these  lines  for  every  one  Englishman." 

"I  am  sure  I  do  not  know,  madam,  what  the  pro- 
portion is.  The  Americans  are  great  travelers ;  so 
are  the  English  too,  for  that  matter." 

"Yes;  but  I  saw  in  one  of  the  papers  that  this 
year  alone  over  a  hundred  thousand  persons  had 
taken  their  passage  from  New  York  to  England. 
It  seems  to  me,  that  as  all  of  them  contribute  to 
the  receipts  of  the  concerts,  some  sort  of  a  division 
should  be  made." 

"Oh,  I  have  no  doubt  if  the  case  were  presented 
to  the  captain,  he  would  be  quite  willing  to  have 
part  of  the  proceeds  at  least  go  to  some  American 
seamen's  charity." 

"I  think  that  would  be  only  fair." 

Two  young  ladies,  arm  in  arm,  approach,  and  ask 
Mrs.  Pengo  how  she  is  feeling  to-day. 

Mrs.  Pengo  replies  that  she  doesn't  suppose  she 
will  feel  any  better  as  long  as  this  rolling  of  the 
ship  continues. 

They  claim,  standing  there,  endeavoring  to  keep 
as  perpendicular  as  possible,  that  the  rolling  is 
something  simply  awful. 


164 


AN  INTERNATIONAL  ROW. 


Il^o    * 


wv 


Then  the  lady  says  to  them,  "Do  you  know,  girls, 
that  all  the  money  subscribed  at  the  concerts  goes 
to  England?" 

"Why,  no;  I  thought  it  went  to  some  charity." 

"Oh,  it  does  go  to  a  charity.  It  goes  to  the 
Liverpool  Seamen's  Hospital." 

"Well,  isn't  that  all  right?" 

"Yes,  it's  all  right  enough ;  but,  as  Sadie  was  just 
suggesting  now,  it  doesn't  seem  quite  fair,  when 
there  are  orphans  of  sailors  belonging  to  America, 
and  as  long  as  such  large  sums  are  subscribed  by 
Americans,  that  the  money  should  not  be  divided, 
and  part  of  it  at  least  given  to  an  American 
charity." 

"Why,  that  seems  perfectly  fair,  doesn't  it,  Mr. 
Daveling?" 

"Yes,  it  is  perfectly  fair.  I  was  just  suggesting 
that  perhaps,  if  the  state  of  things  was  presented  to 
the  captain,  he  would  doubtless  give  a  portion  at 
least  of  the  proceeds  to  an  American  Seamen's 
Home — if  such  an  institution  exists." 

"Then,"  remarked  the  other  girl,  **I  propose  we 
form  a  committee,  and  interview  the  captain.  I 
think  that  if  Americans  subscribe  the  bulk  of  the 
money,  which  they  certainly  do,  they  should  have  a 
voice  in  the  disposal  of  it." 

This  was  agreed  to  on  all  hands,  and  so  began 


AN  INTERNATIONAL  ROW. 


165 


one  of  the  biggest  rows  that  ever  occurred  on  board 
an  Atlantic  liner.  Possibly,  if  the  captain  had  had 
any  tact,  and  if  he  had  not  been  so  thoroughly  im- 
pressed with  his  own  tremendous  importance,  what 
happened  later  on  would  not  have  happened. 

The  lady  in  the  steamer  chair  took  little  part  in 
the  matter,  in  fact  it  was  not  at  that  time  assumed 
to  be  of  any  importance  whatever;  but  the  two 
young  American  girls  were  enthusiastic,  and  they 
spoke  to  several  of  the  passengers  about  it,  both 
American  and  English.  The  English  passengers  all 
recognized  the  justice  of  the  proposed  plan,  so  a 
committee  of  five  young  ladies,  and  one  young 
gentleman  as  spokesman,  waited  upon  the  captain. 
The  young  ladies  at  first  had  asked  the  doctor  of 
the  ship  to  be  the  spokesman ;  but  when  the  doctor 
heard  what  the  proposal  was,  he  looked  somewhat 
alarmed,  and  stroked  his  mustache  thoughtfully. 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  he  said;  "it  is  a  little 
unusual.  The  money  has  always  gone  to  the 
Liverpool  Seamen's  Hospital,  and— well,  you  see, 
we  are  a  conservative  people.  We  do  a  thing  in 
one  way  for  a  number  of  years,  and  then  keep  on 
doing  it  because  we  have  always  done  it  in  that 

way." 

"Yes,"  burst  out  one  of  the  young  ladies,  "that  is 
no  reason  why  an  unjust  thing  should  be  perpetu- 


'I 


\  1 


w 


i66 


AN  INTERNATIONAL  ROW. 


v^ 


III  * 


-i^l 


kl    •« 


ated.  Merely  because  a  wrong  has  been  done  is  no 
reason  why  it  should  be  done  again." 

"True,"  said  the  doctor,  "true,"  for  he  did  not 
wish  to  fall  out  with  the  young  lady,  who  was  very 
pretty ;  "but,  you  see,  in  England  we  think  a  great 
deal  of  precedent." 

And  so  the  result  of  it  all  was  that  the  doctor 
demurred  at  going  to  see  the  captain  in  relation  to 
the  matter.  He  said  it  wouldn't  be  the  thing,  as  he 
was  an  official,  and  that  it  would  be  better  to  get 
one  of  the  passengers. 

t  was  not  present  at  the  interview,  and  of  course 
know  only  what  was  told  to  me  by  those  who  were 
there.  It  seems  that  the  captain  was  highly 
offended  at  being  approached  on  such  a  subject  at 
all.  A  captain  of  an  ocean  liner,  as  I  have  endeav- 
ored to  show,  is  a  very  great  personage  indeed. 
And  sometimes  I  imagine  the  passengers  are  not 
fully  aware  of  this  fact,  or  at  least  they  do  not 
show  it  as  plainly  as  they  ought  to.  Anyhow,  the 
committee  thought  the  captain  had  been  exceed- 
ingly gruff  with  them,  as  well  as  just  a  trifle  impo. 
lite.  He  told  them  that  the  money  from  the  con- 
certs had  always  gone  to  the  Liverpool  Seamen's 
Hospital,  and  always  would  while  he  was  command- 
ing a  ship.  He  seemed  to  infer  that  the  permission 
given  them  to  hold  a  concert  on  board  the  ship  was 


r;  I 


AN  INTERNATIONAL  ROW. 


167 


a  very  great  concession,  and  that  people  should  be 
thankful  for  the  privilege  of  contributing  to  such  a 
worthy  object. 

So,  beginning  with  the  little  girl  who  wanted 
to  know,  and  ending  with  the  captain  who  com- 
manded the  ship,  the  conflagration  was  started. 

Such  is  British  deference  to  authority  that,  as 
soon  as  the  captain's  decision  was  known,  those 
who  had  hitherto  shown  an  open  mind  on  the  sub- 
ject, and  even  those  who  had  expressed  themselves 
as  favoring  the  dividing  of  the  money,  claimed  that 
the  captain's  dictum  had  settled  the  matter.  Then 
it  was  that  every  passenger  had  to  declare  himself. 
"Those  who  are  not  with  us,"  said  the  young  wom- 
en, "are  against  us."  The  ship  was  almost  immedi- 
ately divided  into  two  camps.  It  was  determined 
to  form  a  committee  of  Americans  to  take  the 
money  received  from  the  second  concert ;  for  it  was 
soon  resolved  to  hold  two  concerts,  one  for  the 
American  Seamen's  Orphans'  Home  and  the  other 
for  that  at  Liverpool. 

One  comical  thing  about  the  row  was  that  no- 
body on  board  knew  whether  an  American  Sea- 
men's Orphans'  Home  existed  or  not.  When  this 
problem  was  placed  before  the  committee  of  young 
people,  they  pooh-poohed  the  matter.  They  said 
it  didn't  make  any  difference  at  all ;  if  there  was  no 


I 


i68 


AN  INTERNATIONAL  ROW. 


'iff'    '' 


;  I 


'.'    <i| 


1'      i: 


Seamen's  Hospital  in  America,  it  was  quite  time 
there  should  be  one ;  and  so  they  proposed  that  the 
money  should  be  given  to  the  future  hospital,  if  it 
did  not  already  exist. 

When  everything  was  prepared  for  the  second 
concert  there  came  a  bolt  from  the  blue.  It  was 
rumored  round  the  ship  that  the  captain  had  re- 
fused his  permission  for  the  second  concert  to  be 
held. 

The  American  men,  who  had  up  to  date  looked 
with  a  certain  amused  indifference  on  the  efforts  of 
the  ladies,  now  rallied  and  held  a  meeting  in  the 
smoking  room.  Everyone  felt  that  a  crisis  had 
come,  and  that  the  time  to  let  loose  the  dogs  of 
war — sea-dogs  in  this  instance — had  arrived.  A 
committee  was  appointed  to  wait  upon  the  captain 
next  day.  The  following  morning  the  excitement 
was  at  its  highest  pitch.  It  was  not  safe  for  an 
American  to  be  seen  conversing  with  an  English- 


man, or  vice  versa. 


Rumor  had  it  at  first — in  fact  all  sorts  of  wild 
rumors  were  flying  around  the  whole  forenoon — 
that  the  captain  refused  to  see  the  delegation  of 
gentlemen  who  had  requested  audience  with  him. 
This  rumor,  however,  turned  out  to  be  incorrect. 
He  received  the  delegation  in  his  room,  with  one  or 


Sl:    f 


AN  INTERNA  TIONAL  ROW. 


169 


two   of   the    officers    standing    beside    him.     The 
spokesman  said: 

"Captain,  we  are  informed  that  you  have  con- 
cluded not  to  grant  permission  to  the  Americans 
to  hold  a  concert  in  aid  of  the  American  Seamen  3 
Orphans'  Home.  We  wish  to  know  if  this  is 
true?" 

"You  have  been  correctly  informed,"  replied  the 
captain. 

"We  are  sorry  to  hear  that,"  answered  the 
spokesman.  "Perhaps  you  will  not  object  to  tell 
us  on  what  grounds  you  have  refused  your  permis- 
sion?" 

"Gentleman,"  said  the  captain,  "I  have  received 
you  in  my  room  because  you  requested  an  inter- 
view. I  may  say,  however,  that  I  am  not  in  the 
habit  of  giving  reasons,  for  anything  I  do,  to  the 
passengers  who  honor  this  ship  with  their  com- 
pany." 

"Then,"  said  the  spokesman,  endeavoring  to  keep 
calm,  but  succeeding  only  indifferently,  "it  is  but 
right  that  we  should  tell  you  that  we  regard  such  a 
proceeding  on  your  part  as  a  high-handed  outrage ; 
that  we  will  appeal  against  your  decision  to  the 
owners  of  this  steamship;  and  that,  unless  an  apol- 
ogy is  tendered,  we  will  never  cross  on  this  line 


If 


i.ll 


' 


•i  ■■•ih 


\^  » 


170 


jIjv  interna tional  row. 


again,  and  we  will  advise  all  our  compatriots  never 
to  patronize  a  line  where  such  injustice  is  allowed." 

"Might  I  ask  you,"  said  the  captain  very  suavely, 
"of  what  injustice  you  complain?" 

"It  seems  to  us,"  said  the  spokesman,  "that  it  is 
a  very  unjust  thing  to  allow  one  class  of  passengers 
to  hold  a  concert,  and  to  refuse  permission  to  an- 
other class  to  do  the  same  thing." 

"If  that  is  all  you  complain  of,"  said  the  captain, 
"I  quite  agree  with  you.  I  think  that  would  be  an 
exceedingly  unjust  proceeding." 

"Is  not  that  what  you  are  about  to  do?" 

"Not  that  I  am  aware  of." 

"You  have  prohibited  the  American  concert?" 

"Certainly.  But  I  have  prohibited  the  English 
concert  as  well." 

The  American  delegates  looked  rather  blankly  at 
each  other,  and  then  the  spokesman  smiled.  "Oh, 
well,"  he  said,  "if  you  have  prohibited  both  of 
them,  I  don't  see  that  we  have  anything  to  grumble 
at." 

"Neither  do  I,"  said  the  captain. 

The  delegation  then  withdrew;  and  the  passen- 
gers had  the  unusual  pleasure  of  making  one  ocean 
voyage  without  having  to  attend  the  generally  inev- 
itable amateur  concert. 


m 


A  LADIES'   MAN. 


Jest  w'en  we  guess  we've  covered  the  trail 
So's  no  one  can't  foller,  w'y  then  we  fail. 
W'en  we  feel  safe  hid,  Nemesis,  the  cuss, 
Waltzes  up  with  nary  a  warnin*  nor  fuss  ; 
Grins  quiet-like,  and  says,  "  How  d'y  do. 
So  glad  we've  met,  I'm  a-lookin'  fer  you!  " 

I  DO  not  wish  to  particularize  any  of  the  steam- 
ers   on   which    the    incidents  given   in   this    book 
occurred,  so  the  boat  of  which  I  now  write  I  shall 
call  The  Tub.     This  does  not  sound  very  flatttering 
to  the  steamer,  but  I  must  say  The  Tub  was  a  com- 
fortable old  boat,  as  everybody  will  testify  who  has 
ever  taken  a  voyage  in  her.     I  know  a   very  rich 
man  who  can  well  afford  to  take  the  best  room  in 
the  best  steamer  if  he  wants  to,  but  his  preference 
always  is  for  a  slow  boat  like  The  Tub.     He  says 
that   if  you   are    not  in   a  hurry,  a   slow  boat    is 
preferable  to  one  of  the  new  fast  liners,  because  you 
have  more  individuality  there,  you  get  more  atten- 
tion,  the  officers  are  flattered  by  your  preference  for 

srs 


i 


1 
\  I 


I 


172 


A  LADIES'  MAN. 


^n:^* »' 


-.'i;'UUi 


m 


trl.r 


•si: 


>l 


i 


f«ii 


10 


■i^'i 


!■!. 


u 


\  :: 


their  ship,  and  you  are  not  merely  one  of  a  great 
mob  of  passengers  as  in  a  crowded  fast  liner.  The 
officers  on  a  popular  big  and  swift  boat  are  prone 
to  be  a  trifle  snobbish.  This  is  especially  the  case 
on  the  particular  liner  which  for  the  moment  stands 
at  the  top — a  steamer  that  has  broken  the  record, 
and  is  considered  the  best  boat  in  the  Atlantic 
service  for  the  time  being.  If  you  get  a  word  from 
the  captain  of  such  a  boat  you  may  consider  your- 
self a  peculiarly  honored  individual,  and  even  the 
purser  is  apt  to  answer  you  very  shortly,  and  make 
you  feel  you  are  but  a  worm  of  the  dust,  even 
though  you  have  paid  a  very  large  price  for  your 
stateroom.  On  The  Tub  there  was  nothing  of  this. 
The  officers  were  genial  good  fellows,  who  admitted 
their  boat  was  not  the  fastest  on  the  Atlantic, 
although  at  one  time  she  had  been ;  but  if  The  Tub 
never  broke  the  record,  on  the  other  hand,  she 
never  broke  a  shaft,  and  so  things  were  evened  up. 
She  wallowed  her  way  across  the  Atlantic  in  a  leis- 
urely manner,  and  there  was  no  feverish  anxiety 
among  the  passengers,  when  they  reached  Queens- 
town,  to  find  whether  the  rival  boat  had  got  in 
ahead  of  us  or  not. 

Everybody  on  board  The  Tub  knew  that  any  ves- 
sel which  started  from  New  York  the  same  day 
would   reach  Queenstown   before   us.      In   fact,  a 


A  LADIES'  MAN-, 


173 


good  smart  sailing  vessel,  with  a  fair  wind,  might 
have  made  it  lively  for  us  in  an  ocean  race.  The 
Tub  was  a  broad,  slow  boat,  whose  great  specialty 
was  freight,  and  her  very  broadness,  which  kept  her 
from  being  a  racer,  even  if  her  engines  had  had 
the  power,  made  her  particularly  comfortable  in  a 
storm.  She  rolled  but  little ;  and  as  the  staterooms 
were  large  and  airy,  every  passenger  on  board  The 
Tub  was  sure  of  a  reasonably  pleasant  voyage. 

It  was  always  amusing  to  hear  the  reasons  each 
of  the  passengers  gave  for  being  on  board  The  Tub. 
A  fast  and  splendid  liner  of  an  opposition  company 
left  New  York  the  next  day,  and  many  of  our  pas- 
sengers explained  to  me  they  had  come  to  New 
York  with  the  intention  of  going  by  that  boat,  but 
they  found  all  the  rooms  taken,  that  is,  all  the 
desirable  rooms.  Of  course  they  might  have  had  a 
room  down  on  the  third  deck ;  but  they  were  accus- 
tomed in  traveling  to  have  the  best  rooms,  and  if 
they  couldn't  be  had,  why  it  didn't  much  matter 
what  was  given  them,  so  that  was  the  reason  they 
took  passage  on  The  Tub.  Others  were  on  the 
boat  because  they  remembered  the  time  when  she 
was  one  of  the  fastest  on  the  ocean,  and  they  didn't 
like  changing  ships.  Others  again  were  particular 
friends  of  the  captain,  and  he  would  have  been  an- 
noyed if  they  had  taken  any  other  steamer.     Every- 


1  i 

I* 


174 


A  LADIES'  MAN. 


■m\^ 


H  9\ 


'^\  \ 


lii 


body  had  some  particularly  valid  reason  for  choos- 
ing The  Tub^  that  is,  every  reason  except  economy, 
for  it  was  well  known  that  The  Tub  was  one  of  the 
cheapest  boats  crossing  the  ocean.  For  my  own 
part  I  crossed  on  her  because  the  purser  was  a  par- 
ticular friend  of  mine,  and  knew  how  to  amalga- 
mate fluids  and  different  solid  substances  in  a  man- 
ner that  produced  a  very  palatable  refreshment. 
He  has  himself  deserted  The  Tub  long  ago,  and  is 
now  purser  on  one  of  the  new  boats  of  the  same 
line. 

When  the  gong  rang  for  the  first  meal  on  board 
The  Tub  after  leaving  New  York,  we  filed  down 
from  the  smoking  room  to  the  great  saloon  to  take 
our  places  at  the  table.  There  were  never  enough 
passengers  on  board  The  Tub  to  cause  a  great  rush 
for  places  at  the  table ;  but  on  this  particular  occa- 
sion, when  we  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairway,  two 
or  three  of  us  stood  for  a  moment  both  appalled 
and  entranced.  Sitting  at  the  captain's  right  hand 
was  a  somewhat  sour  and  unattractive  elderly 
woman,  who  was  talking  to  that  smiling  and  urbane 
ofHcial.  Down  the  long  table  from  where  she  sat, 
in  the  next  fifteen  seats  were  fifteen  young  and 
pretty  girls,  most  of  them  looking  smilingly  and 
expectantly  toward  the  stairway  down  which  we 
were  descending.     The  elderly  woman  paused  for  a 


iiri  • 


A  L/iDIES*  MAN. 


I7S 


moment  in  her  conversation  with  the  captain, 
glanced  along  the  line  of  beauty,  said  sharply, 
"Girls!"  and  instantly  every  face  was  turned  de- 
murely toward  the  plate  that  was  in  front  of  it,  and 
then  we,  who  had  hesitated  for  a  moment  on  the 
stairway,  at  once  made  a  break,  not  for  our  seats  at 
the  table,  but  for  the  purser. 

"It's  all  right,  gentlemen,"  said  that  charming 
man,  before  we  could  speak;  "it's  all  right.  I've 
arranged  your  places  down  the  table  on  the  oppo- 
site side.  You  don't  need  to  say  a  word,  and 
those  of  you  who  want  to  change  from  the  small 
tables  to  the  large  one,  will  find  your  names  on  the 
long  table  as  well  as  at  the  small  tables,  where  you 
have  already  chosen  your  places.  So,  you  see,  I 
knew  just  how  you  wished  things  arranged ;  but," 
he  continued,  lowering  his  voice,  "boys,  there's  a 
dragon  in  charge.  I  know  her.  She  has  crossed 
with  us  two  or  three  times.  She  wanted  me  to 
arrange  it  so  that  fifteen  ladies  should  sit  opposite 
her  fifteen  girls;  but,  of  course,  we  couldn't  do 
that,  because  there  aren't  fifteen  other  ladies  on 
board,  and  there  had  to  be  one  or  two  ladies  placed 
next  the  girls  at  the  foot  of  the  table,  so  that  no 
girl  should  have  a  young  man  sitting  beside  her.  I 
have  done  the  best  I  could,  gentlemen,  and,  if  you 
want  the  seats  rearranged,  I  think  we  can  manage  it 


■■A 


1 


'  ■ 


fl 


m 


f  i  m 


« 


% 


i 


\l  h 


iil 


ll! 


176 


A  LA  DIES'  MAJV. 


for  you.  Individual  preferences  may  crop  up,  you 
know."  And  the  purser  smiled  gently,  for  he  had 
crossed  the  ocean  very,  very  often. 

We  all  took  our  places,  sternly  scrutinized  by  the 
lady,  whom  the  purser  had  flatteringly  termed  the 
"dragon."  She  evidently  didn't  think  very  much 
of  us  as  a  crowd,  and  I  am  sure  in  my  own  heart  I 
cannot  blame  her.  We  were  principally  students 
going  over  to  German  colleges  on  the  cheap,  some 
commercial  travelers,  and  a  crowd  generally  who 
could  not  afford  to  take  a  better  boat,  although  we 
had  all  just  missed  the  fast  liner  that  had  left  a  few 
days  before,  or  had  for  some  reason  not  succeeded 
in  securing  a  berth  on  the  fast  boat  which  was  to 
leave  the  day  after. 

If  any  of  the  fifteen  young  ladies  were  aware  of 
our  presence,  they  did  not  show  it  by  glancing 
toward  us.  They  seemed  to  confine  their  conversa- 
tion to  whispers  among  themselves,  and  now  and 
then  a  little  suppressed  giggle  arose  from  one  part 
of  the  line  or  the  other,  upon  which  the  "dragon" 
looked  along  the  row,  and  said  severely,  *  'Girls !" 
whereupon  everything  was  quiet  again,  although 
some  independent  young  lady  generally  broke  the 
silence  by  another  giggle  just  at  the  time  the  still- 
ness was  becoming  most  impressive. 

After  dinner,  in  the  smoking  room,  there  was  a 


■  L  ^.-wfc  Barri  -r^-^ 


A  LADIES'  MAN. 


I  I 


great  deal  of  discussion  about  the  fifteen  pretty 
girls  and  about  the  "dragon."  As  the  officers  on 
board  The  Tub  were  gentlemen  whom  an  ordinary 
person  might  speak  to,  a  delegation  of  one  was 
deputed  to  go  to  the  purser's  room  and  find  out  all 
that  could  be  learned  in  relation  to  the  young  and 
lovely  passengers. 

The  purser  said  that  the  dragon's  name  was  Mrs. 
Scrivener- Yapling,  with  a  hyphen.  The  hyphen 
was  a  very  important  part  of  the  name,  and  Mrs. 
Scrivener- Yapling  always  insisted  upon  it.  Anyone 
who  ignored  that  hyphen  speedily  fell  from  the 
good  graces  of  Mrs.  Scrivener-Yapling.  I  regret  to 
say,  however,  in  spite  of  the  hyphen,  the  lady  was 
very  generally  known  as  the  "dragon"  during  that 
voyage.  The  purser  told  us,  further,  that  Mrs. 
Scrivener-Yapling  was  in  the  habit  of  coming  over 
once  a  year  with  a  party  of  girls,  whom  she  trotted 
around  Europe.  The  idea  was  that  they  learned  a 
great  deal  of  geography,  a  good  deal  of  French  and 
German,  and  received  in  a  general  way  a  polish 
which  Europe  is  supposed  to  give. 

The  circular  which  Mrs.  Scrivener-Yapling  issued 
was  shown  to  me  once  by  one  of  the  girls,  and  it 
represented  that  all  traveling  was  first  class,  that 
nothing  but  the  very  best  accommodations  on 
steamers    and    in    hotels    were    provided,  and   on 


:i 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


lti|21    12.5 
■tt  U£    122 


Hiotographic 

Sci^ces 

Carporation 


4^ 


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23  WUT  MAIN  STMIT 

WfUTIR.N.Y.  MSM 

(7l*)l7a-4S03 


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II 

II 


V 


I! ;{ ' 


178 


A  LADIES'  MAN. 


account  of  Mrs.  S.-Y.'s  intimate  knowledge  of 
Europe,  and  the  different  languages  spoken  there, 
she  managed  the  excursion  in  a  way  which  anyone 
else  would  find  impossible  to  emulate,  and  the 
advantages  accruing  from  such  a  trip  could  not  be 
obtained  in  any  other  manner  without  a  very  much 
larger  expenditure  of  money.  The  girls  had  the 
advantage  of  motherly  care  during  all  the  time  they 
were  abroad,  and  as  the  party  was  strictly  limited 
in  number,  and  the  greatest  care  taken  to  select 
members  only  from  the  very  best  families  in  Amer- 
ica, Mrs.  Scrivener- Yapling  was  certain  that  all  her 
patrons  would  realize  that  this  was  an  opportunity 
of  a  lifetime,  etc.,  etc. 

Even  if  The  Tub  were  not  the  finest  boat  on  the 
Atlantic,  she  certainly  belonged  to  one  of  the  best 
lines,  and  as  the  circular  mentioned  the  line  and  not 
the  particular  vessel  on  which  the  excursion  was  to 
go,  the  whole  thing  had  a  very  high-class  appear- 
ance. 

The  first  morning  out,  shortly  after  breakfast,  the 
"dragon"  and  her  girls  appeared  on  deck.  The 
girls  walked  two  and  two  together,  and  kept  their 
eyes  pretty  much  on  the  planks  beneath  them. 
The  fifteenth  girl  walked  with  the  "dragon,"  and 
thus  the  eight  pairs  paced  slowly  up  and  down  the 
deck  under  the  "dragon's"  eye.     When  this  morning 


A  LA  DIES'  MAN. 


179 


promenade  was  over  the  young  ladies  were  mar- 
shaled into  the  ladies'  saloon,  where  no  masculine 
foot  was  allowed  to  tread.  Shortly  before  lunch  c.n 
indignation  meeting  was  held  in  the  smoking  room. 
Stewart  Montague,  a  commercial  traveler  from  Mil- 
waukee, said  that  he  had  crossed  the  ocean  many 
times,  but  had  never  seen  such  a  state  of  things 
before.  This  young  ladies'  seminary  business  (he 
alluded  to  the  two  and  two  walk  along  the  deck) 
ought  not  to  be  permitted  on  any  well-regulated 
ship.  Here  were  a  number  of  young  ladies,  rang- 
ing in  age  from  eighteen  upward,  and  there  lay 
ahead  of  us  a  long  and  possibly  dreary  voyage,  yet 
the  "dragon"  evidently  expected  that  not  one  of 
the  young  ladies  was  to  be  allowed  to  speak  to  one 
of  the  young  gentlemen  on  board,  much  less  walk 
the  deck  with  him.  Now,  for  his  part,  said  Stewart 
Montague,  he  was  going  to  take  off  his  hat  the 
next  morning  to  the  young  lady  who  sat  opposite 
him  at  the  dinner-table  and  boldly  ask  her  to  walk 
the  deck  with  him.  If  the  "dragon"  interfered,  he 
proposed  that  we  all  mutiny,  seize  the  vessel,  put 
the  captain  in  irons,  imprison  the  "dragon"  in  the 
hold,  and  then  take  to  pirating  on  the  high  seas. 
One  of  the  others  pointed  out  to  him  an  objection 
to  this  plan,  claiming  that  T/ie  Tub  could  not  over- 
take anything  but  a  sailing-vessel,  while  even  that 


A' 


i8o 


A  LADIES'  AfAN. 


\ 


was  doubtful.  Montague  explained  that  the  mu- 
tiny was  only  to  be  resorted  to  as  a  last  desperate 
chance.  He  believed  the  officers  of  the  boat  would 
give  us  every  assistance  possible,  and  so  it  was  only 
in  case  of  everything  else  failing  that  we  should 
seize  the  ship. 

In  a  moment  of  temporary  aberration  I  suggested 
that  the  "dragon"  might  not  be,  after  all,  such  an 
objectionable  person  as  she  appeared,  and  that  per- 
haps she  could  be  won  over  by  kindness. 

Instantly  a  motion  was  put,  and  carried  unani- 
mously, appointing  me  a  committee  to  try  the 
effect  of  kindness  on  the  "dragon."  It  was  further 
resolved  that  the  meeting  should  be  adjourned,  and 
I  should  report  progress  at  the  next  conclave. 

I  respectfully  declined  this  mission.  I  said  it 
was  none  of  my  affair.  I  didn't  wish  to  talk  to  any 
of  the  fifteen  girls,  or  even  walk  the  deck  with 
them.  I  was  perfectly  satisfied  as  I  was.  I  saw  no 
reason  why  I  should  sacrifice  myself  for  the  good  of 
others.  I  suggested  that  the  name  of  Stewart 
Montague  be  substituted  for  mine,  and  that  he 
should  face  the  "dragon"  and  report  progress. 

Mr.  Montague  said  it  had  been  my  suggestion, 
not  his,  that  the  "dragon"  might  be  overcome  by 
kindness.  He  did  not  believe  she  could,  but  he 
was  quite  willing  to   suspend  hostilities  until  my 


A  LADIES'  MAN. 


i8i 


plan  had  been  tried  and  the  result  reported  to  the 
meeting.  It  was  only  when  they  brought  in  a  mo- 
tion to  expel  me  from  the  smoking  room  that  I 
succumbed  to  the  pressure.  The  voyage  was  just 
beginning,  and  what  is  a  voyage  to  a  smoker  who 
dare  not  set  foot  in  the  smoking  room? 

I  do  not  care  to  dwell  on  the  painful  interview  I 
had  with  the  "dragon."  I  put  my  foot  in  it  at  the 
very  first  by  pretending  that  I  thought  she  came 
from  New  York,  whereas  she  had  really  come  from 
Boston.  To  take  a  New  York  person  for  a  Boston- 
ian  is  flattery,  but  to  reverse  the  order  of  things, 
especially  with  a  woman  of  the  uncertain  temper  of 
Mrs.  Scrivener- Yapling,  was  really  a  deadly  insult, 
and  I  fear  this  helped  to  shipwreck  my  mission, 
although  I  presume  it  would  have  been  ship- 
wrecked in  any  case.  Mrs.  Scrivener-Yapling  gave 
me  to  understand  that  if  there  was  one  thing  more 
than  another  she  excelled  in,  it  was  the  reading  of 
character.  She  knew  at  a  glance  whether  a  man 
could  be  trusted  or  not;  most  men  were  not,  I 
gathered  from  her  conversation.  It  seems  she  had 
taken  a  great  many  voyages  across  the  Atlantic, 
and  never  in  the  whole  course  of  her  experience 
had  she  seen  such  an  objectionable  body  of  young 
men  as  on  this  present  occasion.  She  accused  me 
of  being  a  married  man,  and  I  surmised  that  there 


!l 


l82 


//  LADIES'  MAN. 


»M. 


Ill     <. 


were  other  iniquities  of  which  she  strongly  sus- 
pected me. 

The  mission  was  not  a  success,  and  I  reported  at 
the  adjourned  meeting  accordingly. 

Mr.  Stewart  Montague  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that 
the  mission  was  hopeless  from  the  first,  and  in  this 
I  quite  agreed  with  him.  He  said  he  would  try  his 
plan  at  dinner,  but  what  it  was  he  refused  to  state. 
We  asked  if  he  would  report  on  the  success  or  fail- 
ure, and  he  answered  that  we  would  all  see  whether 
it  was  a  success  or  failure  for  ourselves.  So  there 
was  a  good  deal  of  interest  centering  around  the 
meal,  an  interest  not  altogether  called  forth  by  the 
pangs  of  hunger. 

Dinner  had  hardly  commenced  when  Mr.  Stewart 
Montague  leaned  over  the  table  and  said,  in  quite 
an  audible  voice,  to  the  young  lady  opposite  him, 
"I  understand  you  have  never  been  over  the  ocean 
before?" 

The  young  lady  looked  just  a  trifle  frightened, 
blushed  very  prettily,  and  answered  in  a  low  voice 
that  she  had  not. 

Then  he  said,  "I  envy  you  the  first  impicssions 
you  will  have  of  Europe.  It  is  a  charming  country. 
Where  do  you  go  after  leaving  England?" 

"We  are  going  across  to  Paris  first,"  she  replied, 
still  in  a  low  voice. 


A  LADIES'  MAN. 


183 


sus- 


Most  of  us,  however,  were  looking  at  the 
"dragon."  That  lady  sat  bolt  upright  in  her  chair 
as  if  she  could  not  believe  her  ears.  Then  she  said, 
in  an  acid  voice,  "Miss  Fleming." 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Scrivener-Yapling,"  answered  that 
young  lady. 

"Will  you  oblige  me  by  coming  here  for  a  mo- 
ment?" 

Miss  Fleming  slowly  revolved  in  her  circular 
chair,  then  rose  and  walked  up  to  the  head  of  the 
table. 

"Miss  Strong,"  said  the  "dragon"  calmly,  to  the 
young  lady  who  sat  beside  her,  "will  you  oblige  me 
by  taking  Miss  Fleming's  place  at  the  center  of  the 
table?" 

Miss  Strong  rose  and  took  Miss  Fleming's  place. 

"Sit  down  beside  me,  please,"  said  the  "dragon" 
to  Miss  Fleming;  and  that  unfortunate  young 
woman,  now  as  red  as  a  rose,  sat  down  beside  the 
"dragon." 

Stewart  Montague  bit  his  lip.  The  rest  of  us 
said  nothing,  and  appeared  not  to  notice  what  had 
occurred.  Conversation  went  on  among  ourselves. 
The  incident  seemed  ended ;  but,  when  the  fish  was 
brought,  and  placed  before  Miss  Fleming,  she  did 
not  touch  it.  Her  eyes  were  still  upon  the  table. 
Then,  apparently   unable   to  struggle    any   longer 


I 

t. 


i ; 


184 


A  LADIES'  MA  AT. 


with  her  emotions,  she  rose  gracefully,  and,  bowing 
to  the  captain,  said,  "Excuse  me,  please."  She 
walked  down  the  long  saloon  with  a  firm  step,  and 
disappeared.  The  "dragon"  tried  to  resume  con- 
versation with  the  captain  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened ;  but  that  official  answered  only  in  monosyl- 
lables, and  a  gloom  seemed  to  have  settled  down 
upon  the  dinner  party. 

Very  soon  the  captain  rose  and  excused  himself. 
There  was  something  to  attend  to  on  deck,  he  said, 
and  he  left  us. 

As  soon  as  we  had  reassembled  in  the  smoking 
room,  and  the  steward  had  brought  in  our  cups  of 
black  coffee,  Stewart  Montague  arose  and  said : 
"Gentlemen,  I  know  just  what  you  are  going  to  say 
to  me.  It  was  brutal.  Of  course  I  didn't  think 
the  'dragon*  would  do  such  a  thing.  My  plan  was 
a  complete  failure.  I  expected  that  conversation 
would  take  place  across  the  table  all  along  the  line, 
if  I  broke  the  ice." 

Whatever  opinions  were  held,  none  found  expres- 
sion, and  that  evening  in  the  smoking  room  was  as 
gloomy  as  the  hour  at  the  dinner  table. 

Toward  the  shank  of  the  evening  a  gentleman, 
who  had  never  been  in  the  smoking  room  before, 
entered  very  quietly.  We  recognized  him  as  the 
man  who  sat  to  the  left  of  the  captain  opposite  the 


A  LADIES'  MAN. 


I8S 


"dragon."  He  was  a  man  of  middle  age  and  of 
somewhat  severe  aspect.  He  spoke  with  delibera- 
tion when  he  did  speak,  and  evidently  weighed  his 
words.  All  we  knew  of  him  was  that  the  chair 
beside  his  at  meal-times  had  been  empty  since  the 
voyage  began,  and  it  was  said  that  his  wife  took  her 
meals  in  her  stateroom.  She  had  appeared  once  on 
deck  with  him,  very  closely  veiled,  and  hung  upon 
his  arm  in  a  way  that  showed  she  was  not  standing 
the  voyage  very  well,  pleasant  as  it  had  been. 

"Gentlemen,"  began  the  man  suavely,  "I  would 
like  to  say  a  few  words  to  you  if  I  were  certain  that 
my  remarks  would  be  taken  in  the  spirit  in  which 
they  are  given,  and  that  you  would  not  think  me 
intrusive  or  impertinent." 

"Go  ahead,"  said  Montague  gloomily,  who  evi- 
dently felt  a  premonition  of  coming  trouble. 

The  serious  individual  waited  until  the  steward 
had  left  the  room,  then  he  closed  the  door.  "Gen- 
tlemen," he  continued,  "I  will  not  recur  to  the 
painful  incident  which  happened  at  the  dinner  table 
to-night  further  than  by  asking  you,  as  honorable 
men,  to  think  of  Mrs.  Scrivener- Yapling's  position 
of  great  responsibility.  She  stands  in  the  place 
of  a  mother  to  a  number  of  young  ladies  who, 
for  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  have  left  their 
homes," 


n 


1 86 


A  LADIES'  MAN. 


\ 


"Lord  pity  them,"  said  somebody  who  was  sit- 
ting in  the  comer. 

The  gentleman  paid  no  attention  to  the  remark. 

"Now  what  I  wish  to  ask  of  you  is  that  you  will 
not  make  Mrs.  Scrivener- Yapling's  position  any 
harder  by  futile  endeavors  to  form  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  young  ladies." 

At  this  point  Stewart  Montague  broke  out: 
"Who  the  devil  are  you,  sir,  and  who  gave  you  the 
right  to  interfere?" 

"As  to  who  I  am,"  said  the  gentleman  quietly, 
"my  name  is  Kensington,  and " 

"West  or  South?"  asked  the  man  in  the  corner. 

At  this  there  was  a  titter  of  laughter. 

"My  name  is  Kensington,"  repeated  the  gentle- 
man, "and  I  have  been  asked  by  Mrs.  Scrivener- 
Yapling  to  interfere,  which  I  do  very  reluctantly. 
As  I  said  at  the  beginning,  I  hope  you  will  not 
think  my  interference  is.  impertinent.  I  only  do  so 
at  the  earnest  request  of  the  lady  I  have  mentioned, 
because  I  am  a  family  man  myself,  and  I  under- 
stand and  sympathize  with  the  lady  in  the  responsi- 
bility which  she  has  assumed." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  the  man  in  the  corner, 
"that  if  the  'dragon'  has  assumed  responsibilities, 
and  they  have  not  been  thrust  upon  her,  which  I 
understand  they  have  not,  then  she  must  take  the 


A  LADIES'  MAN". 


187 


responsibility  of  the  responsibilities  which  she  has 
assumed.     Do  I  make  myself  clear?" 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Kensington,  "it  is  very 
painful  for  me  to  speak  with  you  upon  this  subject. 
I  feel  that  what  I  have  so  clumsily  expressed  may 
not  be  correctly  understood ;  but  I  appeal  to  your 
honor  as  gentlemen,  and  I  am  sure  I  will  not  appeal 
in  vain  when  I  ask  you  not  to  make  further  effort 
toward  the  acquaintance  of  the  young  ladies,  be- 
cause all  that  you  can  succeed  in  doing  will  be  to 
render  their  voyage  unpleasant  to  themselves,  and 
interrupt,  if  not  seriously  endanger,  the  good  feel- 
ing which  I  understand  has  always  existed  between 
Mrs.  Scrivener- Yapling  and  \\^x prot^g^es'' 

"All  right,"  said  the  man  in  the  corner.  "Have 
a  drinK,  Mr.  Kensington?" 

"Thank  you,  I  never  drink,"  answered  Mr.  Ken- 
sington. 

"Have  a  smoke,  then?" 

"I  do  not  smoke  either,  thank  you  all  the  same 
for  your  offer.  I  hope,  gentlemen,  you  will  forgive 
my  intrusion  on  you  this  evening.     Good-night." 

"Impudent  puppy,"  said  Stewart  Montague,  as 
he  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

But  in  this  we  did  not  agree  with  him,  not  even 
the  man  in  the  corner. 

"He  is  perfectly  right,"  said  that  individual,  "and 


^w 


. 


, » 


li' 


lit 


It- ' 


I 

I! 


I   ' 


i  ' 


i88 


A  LADIES'  MAN. 


I  believe  that  we  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  ourselves. 
It  will  only  make  trouble,  and  I  for  one  am  going 
to  give  up  the  hunt." 

So,  from  that  time  forward,  the  smoking  room 
collectively  made  no  efifort  toward  the  acquaintance 
of  the  young  ladies.  The  ladies'  seminary  walk,  as 
it  was  call'i,  took  place  every  morning  punctually, 
and  sometimes  Mr.  Kensington  accompanied  the 
walkers.  Nevertheless,  individual  friendships,  in 
spite  of  everything  that  either  Mr.  Kensington  or 
the  "dragon"  could  do,  sprang  up  between  some  of 
the  young  men  and  some  of  the  girls,  but  the 
"dragon"  had  an  invaluable  ally  in  Mr.  Kensington. 
The  moment  any  of  the  young  ladies  began  walk- 
ing with  any  of  the  young  gentlemen  on  deck,  or 
the  moment  they  seated  themselves  in  steamer 
chairs  together,  the  urbane,  always  polite  Mr.  Ken- 
sington appeared  on  the  scene  and  said,  "  Miss  So- 
and-So,  Mrs.  Scrivener-Yapling  would  like  to  speak 
with  you." 

Then  the  young  lady  would  go  with  Mr.  Ken- 
sington, while  the  young  gentleman  was  apt  to  use 
strong  language  and  gnash  his  teeth. 

Mr.  Kensington  seemed  lynx-eyed.  There  was 
no  escaping  him.  Many  in  the  smoking  room  no 
doubt  would  have  liked  to  have  picked  a  flaw  in  his 


A  LADIES'  MAN. 


189 


character  if  they  could.  One  even  spoke  of  the  old 
chestnut  about  a  man  who  had  no  small  vices  being 
certain  to  have  some  very  large  ones ;  but  even  the 
speakers  themselves  did  not  believe  this,  and  anyone 
could  see  at  a  glance  that  Mr.  Kensington  was  a  man 
of  sterling  character.  Some  hinted  that  his  wife  was 
the  victim  of  his  cruelty,  and  kept  her  stateroom 
only  because  she  knew  that  he  was  so  fond  of  the 
"dragon's"  company,  and  possibly  that  of  some  of 
the  young  ladies  as  well.  But  this  grotesque  senti- 
ment did  not  pass  current  even  in  the  smoking 
room.  Nevertheless,  although  he  was  evidently  so 
good  a  man,  he  was  certainly  the  most  unpopular 
individual  on  board  The  Tub.  The  hatred  that 
Stewart  Montague  felt  for  him  ever  since  that  epi- 
sode in  the  smoking  room  was  almost  grotesque. 

Montague  had  somehow  managed  to  get  a  con- 
trite note  of  apology  and  distress  to  Miss  Fleming, 
and  several  times  the  alert  Mr.  Kensington  had 
caught  them  together,  and  asked  Miss  Fleming 
with  the  utmost  respect  to  come  down  and  see  Mrs. 
Scrivener- Yapling. 

All  in  all  the  "dragon"  did  not  have  a  very  easy 
time  of  it.  She  fussed  around  like  any  other  old 
hen  who  had  in  charge  a  brood  of  ducks. 

Once  I  thought  there  was  going  to  be  a  row 


I90 


A  LADIES'  MAN. 


1 
i 


between  Montague  and  Kensington.  He  met  that 
gentleman  in  a  secluded  part  of  the  deck,  and, 
going  up  to  him,  said : 

"You  old  wife  deserter,  why  can't  you  attend  to 
your  own  affairs?" 

Kensington  turned  deadly  pah  at  this  insult,  and 
his  fists  clenched. 

**What  do  you  mean?"  he  said  huskily. 

"I  mean  what  I  say.  Why  don't  you  take  your 
own  wife  walking  on  the  deck,  and  leave  the  young 
ladies  alone.  It's  none  of  your  business  with 
whom  they  walk." 

Kensington  seemed  about  to  reply;  but  he 
thought  better  of  it,  turned  on  his  heel,  and  left 
Montague  standing  there. 

The  old  Tub  worried  her  way  across  the  ocean, 
and  reached  the  bar  at  Liverpool  just  in  time  to  be 
too  late  to  cross  it  that  night.  Word  was  passed 
along  that  a  tender  would  come  out  from  Liverpool 
for  us,  which  was  not  a  very  cheering  prospect,  as 
we  would  have  two  hours'  sail  at  least  in  what  was 
practically  an  open  boat. 

Finally  the  tender  came  alongside,  and  the  bag- 
gage was  dumped  down  upon  it.  All  of  us  gath- 
ered together  ready  to  leave  The  Tub.  Mr.  Ken- 
sington, with  his  closely  veiled  wife  hanging  on  his 
arm,  was  receiving  the  thanks  and  congratulations 


I  ;].   ■!! 


A  LADIES'  MAN. 


191 


of  the  "dragon."  The  fifteen  girls  were  all  around 
her.  Before  anyone  started  down  the  sloping  gang- 
way plank,  however,  two  policemen,  accompanied 
by  a  woman,  hurried  up  on  board  The  Tub. 

"Now,  madam,"  said  the  policeman,  "is  he  here?" 

We  saw  that  trouble  was  coming,  and  everybody 
looked  at  everybody  else. 

"Is  he  here?"  cried  the  woman  excitedly;  "there 
he  stands,  the  villain.  Oh,  you  villain,  you  scoun- 
drel, you  mean  rascal,  to  leave  me,  as  you  thought, 
penniless  in  New  York,  and  desert  your  own  wife 
and  family  for  that—that  creature !" 

We  all  looked  at  Kensington,  and  his  face  was 
greenish-pale.  The  heavily  veiled  woman  shrunk 
behind  him,  and  the  policeman  tried  to  make  the 
true  wife  keep  quiet. 

"Is  your  name  Braughton?" 

Kensington  did  not  answer.  His  eyes  were  riv- 
eted on  his  wife.  "In  the  name  of  God,"  he  cried 
aghast,  "how  did  you  come  here?" 

"How  did  I  come  here,"  she  shrieked.  "Oh,  you 
thought  you  slipped  away  nicely,  didn't  you?  But 
you  forgot  that  the  Clipper  left  the  next  day,  and 
I've  been  here  two  days  waiting  for  you.  You 
little  thought  when  you  deserted  me  and  my  chil- 
dren in  New  York  that  we  would  be  here  to  con- 
front you  at  Liverpool." 


192 


A  LADIES'  MAN. 


it    • 


t  M 


%  % 


"Come,  come,"  said  the  policeman,  "there's  no 
use  of  this.  I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  come 
with  us,  sir." 

They  took  him  in  charge,  and  the  irate  wife  then 
turned  like  a  tigress  on  the  heavily  veiled  woman 
who  was  with  him. 

"No  wonder  you  are  ashamed  to  show  your 
face,"  she  cried. 

"Come,  come,"  said  the  policeman,  "come, 
come."  And  they  managed  to  induce  her  to  say 
no  more. 

"Madam,"  said  young  Montague  to  the  speech- 
less 'dragon,"  "I  want  to  ask  your  permission  to 
allow  me  to  carry  Miss  Fleming's  hand-baggage 
ashore." 

"How  dare  you  speak  to  me,  sir!"  she  answered. 

"Because,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "I  thought 
perhaps  you  wouldn't  like  an  account  of  this  affair 
to  go  to  the  Boston  newspapers.  I'm  a  newspaper 
man,  you  see,"  he  added,  with  unblushing  mendac- 
ity. Then,  turning  to  Miss  Fleming,  he  said, 
"Won't  you  allow  me  to  carry  this  for  you?" 

Miss  Fleming  surrendered  the  natty  little  hand- 
bag she  had  with  her,  and  smiled.  The  "dragon" 
made  no  objection. 


A  SOCIETY  FOR  THE  REFORMA- 
TION OF  POKER  PLAYERS. 


O  Unseen  Hand  that  ever  make  and  deals  us, 

And  plays  our  game  ! 
That  now  obscures  and  then  to  light  reveals  us, 

Serves  blanks  or  fame. 
How  vain  our  shuffling,  bluff  and  weak  pretending  ! 
'Tis  Thou  alone  can  name  the  final  ending. 

The  seductive  game  of  poker  is  one  that  I  do 
not  understand.  I  do  not  care  to  understand  it, 
because  it  cannot  be  played  without  the  putting  up 
of  a  good  deal  of  the  coin  of  the  realm,  and  al- 
though I  have  nothing  to  say  against  betting,  my 
own  theory  of  conduct  in  the  matter  is  this :  that 
I  want  no  man's  money  which  I  do  not  earn,  and  I 
do  not  want  any  man  to  get  my  money  unless  he 
earns  it.  So  it  happens,  in  the  matter  of  cards,  I 
content  myself  with  euchre  and  other  games  which 
do  not  require  the  wagering  of  money. 

On  board  the  Atlantic  steamers  there  is  always 

more  or  less  gambling.     I  have  heard  it  said  that 

193 


w 


II 


194 


TffE  POKER  PLAYER. 


men  make  trips  to  and  fro  merely  for  the  purpose 
of  fleecing  their  fellow-passengers;  but,  except  in 
one  instance,  I  never  had  any  experience  with  this 
sort  of  thing. 

Our  little  society  for  the  reformation  of  poker 
players,  or  to  speak  more  correctly,  for  the  reforma- 
tion of  one  particular  poker  player,  was  formed  one 
bright  starlight  night,  latitude  such  a  number,  and 
longitude  something  else,  as  four  of  us  sat  on  a  seat 
at  the  extreme  rear  end  of  the  great  steamer.  We 
four,  with  one  other,  sat  at  a  small  table  in  the 
saloon.  One  of  the  small  tables  on  a  Transatlantic 
steamer  is  very  pleasant  if  you  have  a  nice  crowd 
with  you.  A  seat  at  a  small  table  compares  with  a 
seat  at  the  large  table  as  living  in  a  village  com- 
pares with  living  in  a  city.  You  have  some  individ- 
uality at  the  short  table ;  you  are  merely  one  of  a 
crowd  at  the  long  table.  Our  small  table  was  not 
quite  full.  I  had  the  honor  of  sitting  at  the  head 
of  it,  and  on  each  side  of  me  were  two  young  fel- 
lows, making  five  altogether.  We  all  rather  prided 
ourselves  on  the  fact  that  there  were  no  ladies  at 
our  little  table. 

The  young  Englishman  who  sat  at  my  right  hand 
at  the  corner  of  the  table  was  going  out  to  America 
to  learn  farming.  I  could,  myself,  have  taught  him 
a  good  deal  about  it,  but  I  refrained  from  throwing 


THE  POKER  PLAYER. 


'95 


cold  water  on  his  enthusiastic  ideas  about  Ameri- 
can agriculture.  His  notion  was  that  it  was  an 
occupation  mostly  made  up  of  hunting  and  fishing, 
and  having  a  good  time  generally.  The  profits,  he 
thought,  were  large  and  easily  acquired.  He  had 
guns  with  him,  and  beautiful  fishing-rods,  and 
things  of  that  sort.  He  even  had  a  vague  idea  that 
he  might  be  able  to  introduce  fox-hunting  in  the 
rural  district  to  which  he  was  going.  He  under- 
stood, and  regretted  the  fact,  that  we  in  the  United 
States  were  rather  behindhand  in  the  matter  of  fox- 
hunting. He  had  a  good  deal  of  money  with  him, 
I  understood,  and  he  had  already  paid  a  hundred 
pounds  to  a  firm  in  England  that  had  agreed  to 
place  him  on  a  farm  in  America.  Of  course,  now 
that  the  money  had  been  paid,  there  was  no  use  in 
telling  the  young  man  he  had  been  a  fool.  He 
would  find  that  out  soon  enough  when  he  got  to 
America.  Henry  Storm  was  his  name,  and  a 
milder  mannered  man  with  a  more  unsuitable  name 
could  hardly  be  found.  The  first  two  or  three  days 
out  he  was  the  life  of  our  party.  We  all  liked  him ; 
in  fact,  nobody  could  help  liking  him ;  but,  as  the 
voyage  progressed,  he  grew  more  and  more  melan- 
choly, and,  what  was  really  serious,  took  little  food, 
which  is  not  natural  in  an  Englishman.  I  thought 
somebody  had  been  telling  him  what  a  fool  he  had 


196 


THE  POKER  PLAYER. 


i  i 


been  to  pay  away  his  hundred  pounds  before  leav- 
ing England,  but  young  Smith  of  Rochester,  who 
sat  at  my  left,  told  me  what  the  trouble  was  one 
day  as  we  walked  the  deck. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  began,  "that  Henry  Storm  is 
being  robbed?" 

"Being  robbed?"  I  answered;  "you  mean  he  has 
been  robbed." 

"Well,  has  been,  and  is  being,  too.  The  thing  is 
going  on  yet.  He  is  playing  altogether  too  much 
poker  in  the  smoking  room,  and  has  lost  a  pile  of 
money — more,  I  imagine,  than  he  can  well  afford." 

"That's  what's  the  trouble  with  him,  is  it?  Well, 
he  ought  to  know  better  than  to  play  for  bigger 
stakes  than  he  can  afford  to  lose." 

"Oh,  it's  easy  to  say  that ;  but  he's  in  the  hands 
of  a  swindler,  of  a  professional  gambler.  You  see 
that  man?"  He  lowered  his  voice  as  he  spoke,  and 
I  looked  in  the  direction  of  his  glance.  By  this 
time  we  knew,  in  a  way,  everybody  on  board  the 
ship.  The  particular  man  Smith  pointed  out  was 
a  fellow  I  had  noticed  a  good  deal,  who  was  very 
quiet  and  gentlemanly,  interfering  with  nobody, 
and  talking  with  few.  I  had  spoken  to  him  once, 
but  he  had  answered  rather  shortly,  and,  apparently 
to  his  relief,  and  certainly  to  my  own,  our  acquaint- 
ance ceased  where  it  began.      He  had  jet  black 


THE  POKER  PLA  YEP. 


197 


beard  and  hair,  both  rather  closely  clipped ;  and  he 
wore  a  fore-and-aft  cap,  which  never  improves  a 
man's  appearance  very  much. 

"That  man,"  continued  Smith,  as  he  passed  us, 
"was  practically  under  arrest  for  gambling  on  the 
steamer  in  which  I  came  over.  It  seems  that  he  is 
a  regular  professional  gambler,  who  does  nothing 
but  go  across  the  ocean  and  back  again,  fleecing 
young  fellows  like  Storm." 

"Does  he  cheat?"  I  asked. 

"He  doesn't  need  to.  He  plays  poker.  An  old 
hand,  and  a  cool  one,  has  no  occasion  to  cheat  at 
that  game  to  get  a  young  one's  money  from  him." 

"Then  why  doesn't  someone  warn  young  Storm?" 

"Well,  that's  just  what  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you 
about.  I  think  it  ought  to  be  done.  I  think  we 
should  call  a  meeting  of  our  table,  somewhere  out 
here  in  the  quiet,  and  have  a  talk  over  it,  and  make 
up  our  minds  what  is  to  be  done.  It's  a  delicate 
matter,  you  know,  and  I  am  afraid  we  are  a  little 
late  as  it  is.  I  do  believe  young  Storm  has  lost 
nearly  all  his  money  to  that  fellow." 

"Can't  he  be  made  to  disgorge?" 

"How?  The  money  has  been  won  fairly  enough, 
as  that  sort  of  thing  goes.  Other  fellows  have 
played  with  them.  It  isn't  as  if  he  had  been 
caught   cheating— he  hasn't,    and  won't   be.      He 


198 


THE  POKER  PLAYER. 


doesn't  cheat — he  doesn't  need  to,  as  I  said  before. 
Now  that  gambler  pretends  he  is  a  commercial  trav- 
eler from  Buffalo.  I  know  Buffalo  down  to  the 
ground,  so  I  took  him  aside  yesterday  and  said 
plumply  to  him,  'What  firm  in  Buffalo  do  you  rep- 
resent?' He  answered  shortly  that  his  business 
was  his  own  affair.  I  said,  'Certainly  it  is,  and  you 
are  quite  right  in  keeping  it  dark.  When  I  was 
coming  over  to  Europe,  I  saw  a  man  in  your  line  of 
business  who  looked  very  much  like  you,  practically 
put  under  arrest  by  the  purser  for  gambling.  You 
were  traveling  for  a  St.  Louis  house  then.* " 

"What  did  he  say  to  that?" 

"Nothing;  he  just  gave  me  one  of  those  sly,  sin- 
ister looks  of  his,  turned  on  his  heel,  and  left  me." 

The  result  of  this  conversation  was  the  inaugura- 
tion of  the  Society  for  the  Reforming  of  a  Poker 
Player.  It  was  agreed  between  us  that,  if  young 
Storm  had  lost  all  his  money,  we  would  subscribe 
enough  as  a  loan  to  take  care  of  him  until  he  got  a 
remittance  from  home.  Of  course  we  knew  that 
any  young  fellow  who  goes  out  to  America  to 
begin  farming,  does  not,  as  a  general  rule,  leave 
people  in  England  exceedingly  well  off,  and  prob- 
ably this  fact,  more  than  any  other,  accounted  for 
the  remorse  visible  on  Storm's  countenance.  We 
knew  quite  well  that  the  offering  of  money  to  him 


THE  POKER  PLA  YER. 


199 


would  be  a  very  delicate  matter,  but  it  was  agreed 
that  Smith  should  take  this  in  hand  if  we  saw  the 
offer  was  necessary.  Then  I,  as  the  man  who  sat 
at  the  head  of  the  table,  was  selected  to  speak  to 
young  Storm,  and,  if  possible,  get  him  to  abandon 
poker.  J  knew  this  was  a  somewhat  impudent 
piece  of  business  on  my  part,  and  so  I  took  that 
evening  to  determine  how  best  to  perform  the  task 
set  for  me.  I  resolved  to  walk  the  deck  with  him 
in  the  morning,  and  have  a  frank  talk  over  the  mat- 
ter. 

When  the  morning  came,  I  took  young  Storm's 
arm  and  walked  two  or  three  turns  up  and  down  the 
deck,  but  all  the  while  I  could  not  get  up  courage 
enough  to  speak  with  him  in  relation  to  gambling. 
When  he  left  me,  I  again  thought  over  the  matter, 
I  concluded  to  go  into  the  smoking  room  myself, 
sit  down  beside  him,  see  him  lose  some  money,  and 
use  that  fact  as  a  text  for  my  coming  discourse  on 
the  evils  of  gambling.  After  luncheon  I  strolled 
into  the  smoking  room,  and  there  sat  this  dark- 
faced  man  with  his  half-closed  eyes  opposite  young 
Storm,  while  two  others  made  up  the  four-handed 
game  of  poker. 

Storm's  face  was  very  pale,  and  his  lips  seemed 
dry,  for  he  moistened  them  every  now  and  then  as 
the  game  went  on.     He  was  sitting  on  the  sofa,  and 


300 


THE  POKER  PLAYER. 


1:^ 


II 


i[ 


!l        I 


I     ■  ■  t 


if 


I  sat  down  beside  him,  paying  no  heed  to  the  dark 
gambler's  look  of  annoyance.  However,  the  al- 
leged Buffalo  man  said  nothing,  for  he  was  not  a 
person  who  did  much  talking.  Storm  paid  no 
attention  to  me  as  I  sat  down  beside  him.  The 
gambler  had  just  dealt.  It  was  very  interesting  to 
see  the  way  he  looked  at  his  hand.  He  allowed 
merely  the  edges  of  the  cards  to  show  over  each 
other,  and  then  closed  up  his  hand  and  seemed  to 
know  just  what  he  had.  When  young  Storm 
looked  at  his  hand  he  gave  a  sort  of  gasp,  and  for 
the  first  time  cast  his  eyes  upon  me.  I  had  seen 
his  hand,  but  did  not  know  whether  it  was  a  good 
one  or  not.  I  imagined  it  was  not  very  good, 
because  all  the  cards  were  of  a  low  denomination. 
Threes  or  fours  I  think,  but  four  of  the  cards  had  a 
like  number  of  spots.  There  was  some  money  in 
the  center  of  the  table.  Storm  pushed  a  half-crown 
in  front  of  him,  and  the  next  man  did  the  same. 
The  gambler  put  down  a  half-sovereign,  and  the 
man  at  his  left,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  shoved 
out  an  equal  amount  from  the  pile  of  gold  in  front 
of  him. 

Young  Storm  pushed  out  a  sovereign. 

"I'm  out,"  said  the  man  whose  next  bet  it  was, 
throwing  down  his  cards. 

The  gambler  raised  it  a  sovereign,  and  the  man 


THE  POKER  PLAYER, 


20i 


at  his  left  dropped  out.  It  now  rested  between 
Storm  and  the  gambler.  Storm  increased  the  bet  a 
sovereign.  The  gambler  then  put  on  a  five-pound 
note. 

Storm  said  to  me  huskily,  "Have  you  any 
money?" 

"Yes,"  I  answered  him. 

"Lend  me  five  pounds  if  you  can." 

Now,  the  object  of  my  being  there  was  to  stop 
gambling,  not  to  encourage  it.  I  was  the  president 
pro  tern,  of  the  Society  for  the  Reformation  of 
Poker  Players,  yet  I  dived  into  my  pocket,  pulled 
out  my  purse  under  the  table  and  slipped  a  five- 
pound  note  into  his  hand.  He  put  that  on  the 
table  as  if  he  had  just  taken  it  from  his  own  pocket. 

"I  call  you,"  he  said. 

"What  have  you  got  ?"  asked  the  gambler. 

"Four  fours,"  said  Storm,  putting  down  his  hand. 

The  gambler  closed  up  his  and  threw  the  cards 
over  to  the  man  who  was  to  deal.  Storm  paused  a 
moment,  and  then  pulled  toward  him  the  money  in 
the  center  of  the  table  and  handed  me  my  five- 
pound  note. 

When  the  cards  were  next  dealt,  Storm  seemed 
to  have  rather  an  ordinary  hand,  so  apparently  had 
all  the  rest,  and  there  was  not  much  money  in  the 
pile.     But,  poor  as  Storm's  hand  was,  the  rest  ap- 


1 


n 


203 


r/fE  POKER  PLAYER. 


V' 


\ 


w. 


'■  ji 


peared  to  be  poorer,  and  he  raked  in  the  cash. 
This  went  on  for  two  or  three  deals,  and  finding 
that,  as  Storm  was  winning  all  the  time,  although 
not  heavily,  I  was  not  getting  an  object  lesson 
against  gambling,  I  made  a  move  to  go. 

"Stay  where  you  are,"  whispered  Storm  to  me, 
pinching  my  knee  with  his  hand  so  hard  that  I 
almost  cried  out. 

Then  it  came  to  the  gambler's  turn  to  deal  again. 
All  the  time  he  deftly  shuffled  the  cards  he 
watched  the  players  with  that  furtive  glance  of  his 
from  out  his  half-shut  eyes. 

Storm's  hand  was  a  remarkable  one,  after  he  had 
drawn  two  cards,  but  I  did  not  know  whether  it 
had  any  special  value  or  not.  The  other  players 
drew  three  cards  each,  and  the  gambler  took 
one. 

"How  much  money  have  you  got?"  whispered 
Storm  to  me. 

"I  don't  know,"  I  said,  "perhaps  a  hundred 
pounds." 

"Be  prepared  to  lend  me  every  penny  of  it,"  he 
whispered. 

I  said  nothing ;  but  I  never  knew  the  president  of 
a  society  for  the  suppression  of  gambling  to  be  in 
such  a  predicament. 

Storm  bet  a  sovereign.    The  player  to  his  left 


THE  POKER  PLAYER. 


303 


threw  down  his  hand.    The  gambler  pushed  out 
two  sovereigns.     The  other  player  went  out. 

Storm  said,  "I  see  your  bet,  and  raise  you  an- 
other sovereign."  The  gambler,  without  saying  a 
word,  shoved  forward  some  more  gold. 

"Get  your  money  ready,"  whispered  Storm  to 
me. 

I  did  not  quite  like  his  tone,  but  I  made  allow- 
ance for  the  excitement  under  which  he  was  evi- 
dently laboring. 

He  threw  on  a  five-pound  note.  The  gambler 
put  down  another  five-pound  note,  and  then,  as  if  it 
were  the  slightest  thing  possible,  put  a  ten-pound 
note  on  top  of  that,  which  made  the  side  players 
gasp.  Storm  had  won  sufficient  to  cover  the  bet 
and  raise  it.  After  that  I  had  to  feed  in  to  him 
five-pound  notes,  keeping  count  of  their  number  on 
my  fingers  as  I  did  so.  The  first  to  begin  to  hesi- 
tate about  putting  money  forward  was  the  gambler. 
He  shot  a  glance  now  and  again  from  under  his 
eyebrows  at  the  young  man  opposite.  Finally, 
when  my  last  five-pound  note  had  been  thrown  on 
the  pile,  the  gambler  spoke  for  the  first  time. 

"I  call  you,"  he  said. 

"Put  down  another  five-pound  note,"  cried  the 
young  man. 

"I  have  called  you,"  said  the  gambler. 


t     I 


1^ 


u   , 


204 


THE  POKER  PLAYER. 


Henry  Storm  half  rose  from  his  seat  in  his  excite- 
ment. "Put  down  another  five-pound  note,  if  you 
dare." 

"That  isn't  poker,"  said  the  gambler.  "I  have 
called  you.     What  have  you  got?" 

"Put  down  another  five-pound  note,  and  1*11  put 
a  ten-pound  note  on  top  of  it." 

"I  say  that  isn't  poker.  You  have  been  called. 
What  have  you  got?" 

"I'll  bet  you  twenty  pounds  against  your  five- 
pound  note,  if  you  dare  put  it  down." 

By  this  time  Storm  was  standing  up,  quivering 
with  excitement,  his  cards  tightly  clenched  in  his 
hand.  The  gambler  sat  opposite  him  calm  and 
imperturbable. 

"What  have  you  got?"  said  Storm. 
,    "I   called  you,"   said   the   gambler,  "show  your 
hand." 

"Yes;  but  when  I  called  you,  you  asked  me  what 
I  had,  and  I  told  you.     What  have  you  got  ?" 

"I  am  not  afraid  to  show  my  hand,"  said  the 
gambler,  and  he  put  down  on  the  table  four  aces. 

"There's  the  king  of  hearts,"  said  Storm,  putting 
it  down  on  the  table.  "There's  the  queen  of  hearts, 
there's  the  knave  of  hearts,  there's  the  ten  of  hearts. 
Now,"  he  cried,  waving  his  other  card  in  the  air, 
"can  you  tell  me  what  this  card  is?" 


THE  POKER  PLAYER. 


205 


"I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  answered  the  gambler 
quietly,  "probably  the  nine  of  hearts." 

"It  is  the  nine  of  hearts,"  shouted  Storm,  placing 
it  down  beside  the  others. 

The  gambler  quietly  picked  up  the  cards,  and 
handed  them  to  the  man  who  was  to  deal.  Storm's 
hands  were  trembling  with  excitement  as  he  pulled 
the  pile  of  banknotes  and  gold  toward  him.  He 
counted  out  what  I  had  given  him,  and  passed  it  to 
me  under  the  table.  The  rest  he  thrust  into  his 
pocket. 

"Come,"  I  said,  "it  is  time  to  go.     Don't  strain 
your  luck." 

"Another    five     pounds,"    he    whispered;    "sit 
where  you  are." 

"Nonsense,"  I  said,  "another  five  pounds  will  cer- 
tainly mean   that  you   lose   everything  you   have 
won.     Come  away,  I  want  to  talk  with  you." 
"Another  five  pounds,  I  have  sworn  it." 
"Very  well,  I  shall  not  stay  here  any  longer." 
"No,  no,"  he  cried  eagerly;  "sit   where  you  are, 
sit  where  you  are." 

There  was  a  grim  thin  smile  on  the  lips  of  the 
gambler  as  this  whispered  conversation  took  place. 

When  the  next  hand  was  dealt  around  and  Storm 
looked  at  his  cards,  he  gave  another  gasp  of  delight. 
I  thought  that  a  poker  player  should  not  be  so  free 


V. 


3O0 


TITE  POKER  PLAYER. 


with  his  emotions;  but  of  course  I  said  nothing. 
When  it  came  his  time  to  bet,  he  planked  down  a 
five-pound  note  on  the  table.  The  other  two,  as  was 
usual,  put  down  their  cards.  They  were  evidently 
very  timorous  players.  The  gambler  hesitated  for 
a  second,  then  he  put  a  ten-pound  note  on  Storm's 
five  pounds.  Storm  at  once  saw  him,  and  raised 
him  ten.  The  gambler  hesitated  longer  this  time, 
but  at  last  he  said,  "I  shall  not  bet.  What  have 
you  got?" 

"Do  you  call  me?"  asked  Storm.  "Put  up  your 
money  if  you  do." 

"No,  I  do  not  call  you." 

Storm  laughed  and  threw  his  cards  face  up  on 
the  table.  "I  have  nothing,"  he  said;  "I  have 
bluffed  you  for  once." 

"It  is  very  often  done,"  answered  the  gambler 
quietly,  as  Storm  drew  in  his  pile  of  money,  stuffing 
it  again  in  his  coat  pocket.    "Your  deal.  Storm." 

**No,  sir,"  said  the  young  man,  rising  up;  "I'll 
never  touch  a  poker  hand  again.  I  have  got  my 
own  money  back  and  five  or  ten  pounds  over.  I 
know  when  I've  had  enough." 

Although  it  was  Storm's  deal,  the  gambler  had 
the  pack  of  cards  in  his  hand,  idly  shufHing  them  to 
and  fro. 


THE  POKER  PLAYER, 


207 


"  I  have  often  heard,"  he  said  slowly,  without 
raising  his  eyes,  "that  when  one  fool  sits  down 
beside  another  fool  at  poker,  the  player  has  the 
luck  of  two  fools— but  I  never  believed  it  be- 
fore." 


THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  NOT  ON  THE 
PASSENGER  LIST. 


The  well-sworn  Lie,  franked  to  the  world  with  all 

The  circumstance  of  proof. 
Cringes  abashed,  and  sneaks  along  the  wall 

At  the  first  sight  of  Truth. 

The  Gibronius  of  the  Hot  Cross  Bun  Line  was  at 
one  time  the  best  ship  of  that  justly  celebrated 
fleet.  All  steamships  have,  of  course,  their  turn  at 
the  head  of  the  fleet  until  a  better  boat  is  built,  but 
the  Gibronius  is  even  now  a  reasonably  fast  and 
popular  boat.  An  accident  happened  on  board  the 
Gibronius  some  years  ago  which  was  of  small  impor- 
tance to  the  general  public,  but  of  some  moment  to 
Richard  Keeling— for  it  killed  him.  The  poor  man 
got  only  a  line  or  two  in  the  papers  when  the 
steamer  arrived  at  New  York,  and  then  they  spelled 
his  name  wrong.  It  had  happened  something  like 
this:  Keeling  was  wandering  around  very  late  at 
night,  when  he  should  have  been  in  his  bunk,  and 
he  stepped  on  a  dark  place  that  he  thought  was 

aog 


i.  ^ 


1; ! 


210 


-A^Or  OJV  THE  PASSENGER  LIST. 


solid.  As  it  happened,  there  was  nothing  between 
him  and  the  bottom  of  the  hold  but  space.  They 
buried  Keeling  at  sea,  and  the  officers  knew  abso- 
lutely nothing  about  the  matter  when  inquisitive 
passengers,  hearing  rumors,  questioned  them.  This 
state  of  things  very  often  exists  both  on  sea  and 
land,  as  far  as  officials  are  concerned.  Mrs.  Keel- 
ing, who  had  been  left  in  England  while  her  hus- 
band went  to  America  to  make  his  fortune,  and 
tumbled  down  a  hole  instead,  felt  aggrieved  at  the 
company.  The  company  said  that  Keeling  had  no 
business  to  be  nosing  around  dark  places  on  the 
deck  at  that  time  of  night,  and  doubtless  their  con- 
tention was  just.  Mrs.  Keeling,  on  the  other  hand, 
held  that  a  steamer  had  no  right  to  have  such  man- 
traps open  at  any  time,  night  or  day,  without  hav- 
ing them  properly  guarded,  and  in  that  she  was  also 
probably  correct.  The  company  was  very  sorry,  of 
course,  that  the  thing  had  occurred ;  but  they  re- 
fused to  pay  for  Keeling  unless  compelled  to  do  so 
by  the  law  of  the  land,  and  there  matters  stood. 
No  one  can  tell  what  the  law  of  the  land  will  do 
when  it  is  put  in  motion,  although  many  people 
thought  that  if  Mrs.  Keeling  had  brought  a  suit 
against  the  Hot  Cross  Bun  Company,  she  would 
have  won  it.  But  Mrs.  Keeling  was  a  poor  woman, 
and  you  have  to  put  a  penny  in  the  slot  when  you 


NOT  ON  THE  PASSENGER  LIST. 


211 


want  the  figures  of  justice  to  work,  so  the  unfor- 
tunate creature  signed  something  which  the  lawyer 
of  the  company  had  written  out,  and  accepted  the 
few  pounds  which  Keeling  had  paid  for  Room  i8 
on  the  Gibrontus.  It  would  seem  that  this  ought 
to  have  settled  the  matter,  for  the  lawyer  told  Mrs. 
Keeling  he  thought  the  company  acted  very  gener- 
ously in  refunding  the  passage  money ;  but  it  didn't 
settle  the  matter.  Within  a  year  from  that  time, 
the  company  voluntarily  paid  Mrs.  Keeling  £2100 
for  her  husband.  Now  that  the  occurrence  is 
called  to  your  mind,  you  will  perhaps  remember  the 
editorial  one  of  the  leading  London  dailies  had  on 
the  extraordinary  circumstance,  in  which  it  was 
very  ably  shown  that  the  old  saying  about  corpora- 
tions having  no  souls  to  be  condemned,  or  bodies  to 
be  kicked,  did  not  apply  in  these  days  of  commer- 
cial honor  and  integrity.  It  was  a  very  touching 
editorial,  and  it  caused  tears  to  be  shed  on  the 
Stock  Exchange,  the  members  having  had  no  idea, 
before  reading  it,  that  they  were  so  noble  and  gen- 
erous. 

How,  then,  was  it  that  the  Hot  Cross  Bun  Com- 
pany did  this  commendable  act  when  their  lawyer 
took  such  pains  to  clear  them  of  all  legal  liability? 
The  purser  of  the  Gibrontus^  who  is  now  old  and 
superannuated,  could  probably  tell  you  if  he  liked. 


' 


212 


NOT  ON  THE  PASSENGER  LIST. 


•    \ 


\':\ 


When  the  negotiations  with  Mrs.  Keeling  had 
been  brought  to  a  satisfactory  conclusion  by  the 
lawyer  of  the  company,  and  when  that  gentleman 
was  rubbing  his  hands  over  his  easy  victory,  the 
good  ship  Gibrontus  was  steaming  out  of  the  Mer- 
sey on  her  way  to  New  York.  The  stewards  in  the 
grand  saloon  were  busy  getting  things  in  order  for 
dinner,  when  a  wan  and  gaunt  passenger  spoke  to 
one  of  them. 

"Where  have  you  placed  me  at  table?"  he 
asked. 

"What  name,  sir?"  asked  the  steward. 

"Keeling." 

The  steward  looked  along  the  main  tables,  up 
one  side  and  down  the  other,  reading  the  cards,  but 
nowhere  did  he  find  the  name  he  was  in  search  of. 
Then  he  looked  at  the  small  tables,  but  also  with- 
out success. 

"How  do  you  spell  it,  sir?"  he  asked  the  patient 
passenger. 

"K-double-e-l-i-n-g." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

Then  he  looked  up  and  down  the  four  rows  of 
names  on  the  passenger  list  he  held  in  his  hand,  but 
finally  shook  his  head. 

"  I  can't  find  your  name  on  the  passenger  list," 
he  said.     "I'll  speak  to  the  purser,  sir."  , 


NOT  ON   THE  PASSENGER  LIST.  213 

"I  wish  you  would,"  replied  the  passenger  in  a 
listless  way,  as  if  he  had  not  much  interest  in  the 
matter.  The  passenger,  whose  name  was  not  on 
the  list,  waited  until  the  steward  returned. 

"Would   you   mind   stepping    into   the    purser's 
room  for  a  moment,  sir?     I'll  show  you  the  way 
sir." 

When  the  passenger  was  shown  into  the  purser's 
room  that  official  said  to  him,  in  the  urbane  manner 
of  pursers : 

"Might  I  look  at  your  ticket,  sir?" 

The  passenger  pulled  a  long  pocketbook  from 
the  inside  of  his  coat,  opened  it,  and  handed  the 
purser  the  document  it  contained.  The  purser 
scrutinized  it  sharply,  and  then  referred  to  a  list  he 
had  on  the  desk  before  him. 

"This  is  very  strange,"  he  said  at  last.  "I  never 
knew  such  a  thing  to  occur  before,  although,  of 
course,  it  is  always  possible.  The  people  on  shore 
have  in  some  unaccountable  manner  left  your  name 
out  of  my  list.  I  am  sorry  you  have  been  put  to 
any  inconvenience,  sir." 

"There  has  been  no  inconvenience  so  far,"  said 
the  passenger,  "and  I  trust  there  will  be  none. 
You  find  the  ticket  regular,  I  presume?" 

"Quite  so— quite  so,"  replied  the  purser.  Then, 
to   the   waiting  steward,  "Give   Mr.    Keeling  any 


214 


NOT  ON   THE  PASSENGER  LIST. 


I-: 

i.  » 

I 


' 


\\  '• ; 


II 

m 


I  Mi 


place  he  prefers  at  the  table  which  is  not  already 
taken.     You  have  Room  i8." 

"That  was  what  I  bought  at  Liverpool." 

"Well,  I  see  you  have  the  room  to  yourself,  and 
I  hope  you  will  find  it  comfortable.  Have  you 
ever  crossed  with  us  before,  sir?  1  seem  to  recol- 
lect your  face." 

"I  have  never  been  in  America." 

"Ah!  I  see  so  many  faces,  of  course,  that  I 
sometimes  fancy  I  know  a  man  when  I  don't. 
Well,  I  hope  you  will  have  a  pleasant  voyage,  sir." 

"Thank  you." 

No.  1 8  was  not  a  popular  passenger.  People 
seemed  instinctively  to  shrink  from  him,  although 
it  must  be  admitted  that  he  made  no  advances. 
All  went  well  until  the  Gibrontus  was  about  half- 
way over.  One  forenoon  the  chief  officer  entered 
the  captain's  room  with  a  pale  face,  and,  shutting 
the  door  after  him,  said : 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  have  to  report,  sir,  that  one 
of  the  passengers  has  fallen  into  the  hold." 

"Good  Heavens !"  cried  the  captain.    "Is  he  hurt?" 

"He  is  killed,  sir." 

The  captain  stared  aghast  at  his  subordinate. 

"How  did  it  happen?  I  gave  the  strictest  orders 
that  those  places  were  on  no  account  to  be  left 
unguarded."  . 


NOT  ON   THE  PASSENGER  LIST. 


215 


Although  the  company  had  held  to  Mrs.  Keeling 
that  the  captain  was  not  to  blame,  their  talk  with 
that  gentleman  was  of  an  entirely  different  tone. 

"That  is  the  strange  part  of  it,  sir.  The  hatch 
has  not  been  opened  this  voyage,  sir,  and  was 
securely  bolted  down." 

"Nonsense!  Nobody  will  believe  such  a  story! 
Someone  has  been  careless!  Ask  the  purser  to 
come  here,  please." 

When  the  purser  saw  the  body,  he  recollected, 
and  came  as  near  fainting  as  a  purser  can. 

They  dropped  Keeling  overboard  in  the  night, 
and  the  whole  affair  was  managed  so  quietly  that 
nobody  suspected  anything,  and,  what  is  the  most 
incredible  thing  in  this  story,  the  New  York  papers 
did  not  have  a  word  about  it.  What  the  Liverpool 
office  said  about  the  matter  nobody  knows,  but  it 
must  have  stirred  up  something  like  a  breeze  in 
that  strictly  business  locality.  It  is  likely  they 
pooh-poohed  the  whole  affair,  for,  strange  to  say, 
when  the  purser  tried  to  corroborate  the  story  with 
the  dead  man's  ticket  the  document  was  nowhere 
to  be  found. 

The  Gibrontus  started  out  on  her  next  voyage 
from  Liverpool  with  all  her  colors  flying,  but  some 
of  her  officers  had  a  vague  feeling  of  unrest  within 
them  which  reminded  them  of  the  time  they  first 


2  lb 


NOT  ON  THE  PASSENGER  LIST, 


I: 


i 

■I,' 


v*.  I 


sailed  on  the  heaving  seas.  The  purser  was  seated 
in  his  room,  busy,  as  pursers  always  are  at  the  be- 
ginning of  a  voyage,  when  there  was  a  rap  at  the 
door. 

"Come  in !"  shouted  the  important  official,  and 
there  entered  unto  him  a  stranger,  who  said : 

"Are  you  the  purser?" 

"Yes,  sir.     What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"I  have  room  No.  i8." 

"What!"  cried  the  purser,  with  a  gasp,  almost 
jumping  from  his  chair.  Then  he  looked  at  the 
robust  man  before  him,  and  sank  back  with  a  sigh 
of  relief.     It  was  not  Keeling. 

"I  have  room  No.  i8,"  continued  the  passenger, 
"and  the  arrangement  I  made  with  your  people  in 
Liverpool  was  that  I  was  to  have  the  room  to  my- 
self.    I  do  a  great  deal  of  shipping  over  your " 

"Yes,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  purser,  after  having 
looked  rapidly  over  his  list,  "you  have  No.  i8  to 
yourself." 

"So  I  told  the  man  who  is  unpacking  his  luggage 
there;  but  he  showed  me  his  ticket,  and  it  was 
issued  before  mine.  I  can't  quite  understand  why 
your  people  should " 

"What  kind  of  a  looking  man  is  he?" 

"A  thin,  unhealthy,  cadaverous  man,  who  doesn't 
look  as  if  he  would  last  till  the  voyage  ends.     I 


'l|.  V 


mr  ON   THE  PASSENGER   LIST.  217 

don't-  want  him  for  a  room  mate,  if  I  have  to  have 
one.     I  think  you  ought^ " 

"I  will,  sir.  I  will  make  it  all  right.  I  suppose,  if 
it  should  happen  that  a  mistake  has  been  made,  and 
he  has  the  prior  claim  to  the  room,  you  would  not 
mind  taking  No.  24— it  is  a  larger  and  better  roorT,." 

"That  will  suit  me  exactly." 

So  the  purser  locked  his  door  and  went  down  to 
No.  18. 

"Well?"  he  said  to  its  occupant. 
"Well,"  answered  Mr.  Keeling,  looking  up  at  him 
with  his  cold  and  fishy  eyes. 
"You're  here  again,  are  you?" 
"I'm  here  again,  and  I  will  be  here  again.    And 
again  and  again,  and  again  and  again." 

"Now,  what  the "     Then  the  purser  hesitated 

a  moment,  and  thought  perhaps  he  had  better  not 
swear,  with  that  icy,  clammy  gaze  fixed  upon  him. 
"What  object  have  you  in  all  this?" 

"Object?  The  very  simple  one  of  making  your 
company  live  up  to  its  contract.  From  Liverpool 
to  New  York,  my  ticket  reads.  I  paid  for  being 
landed  in  the  United  States,  not  for  being  dumped 
overboard  in  mid-ocean.  Do  you  think  you  can 
take  me  over?  You  have  had  two  tries  at  it  and 
have  not  succeeded  Yours  is  a  big  and  powerful 
company,  too." 


It 

'I.' 


i     ' 


i    ' 


il 


I 


!*    . 


I  i   '^' 


2i8  NOT  OAT   THE  PASSENGER  LIST. 

**If    you    know  we    can't  do    it,   then   why    do 
— ?"     The  purser  hesitated. 


you— 

"Pester  you  with  my  presence?"  suggested  Mr. 
Keeling.  "Because  I  want  you  to  do  justice. 
Two  thousand  pounds  is  the  price,  and  I  will  raise 
it  one  hundred  pounds  every  trip." 

This  time  the  New  York  papers  got  hold  of  the 
incident,  but  not  of  its  peculiar  features.  They 
spoke  of  the  extraordinary  carelessness  of  the  offi- 
cers in  allowing  practically  the  same  accident  to 
occur  twice  on  the  same  boat.  When  the  Gibroti' 
tus  reached  Liverpool  all  the  officers,  from  the 
captain  down,  sent  in  their  resignations.  Most  of 
the  sailors  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  resign,  but 
cut  for  it.  The  managing  director  was  annoyed  at 
the  newspaper  comments,  but  laughed  at  the  rest  of 
the  story.  He  was  invited  to  come  over  and  inter- 
view Keeling  for  his  own  satisfaction,  most  of  the 
officers  promising  to  remain  on  the  ship  if  he  did 
so.  He  took  Room  i8  himself.  What  happened  I 
do  not  know,  for  the  purser  refused  to  sail  again  on 
the  Gibrontus,  and  was  given  another  ship. 

But  this  much  is  certain.  When  the  managing 
director  got  back,  the  company  generously  paid 
Mrs.  Keeling  ;^2icx>. 


THE  TERRIBLE  EXPERIENCE  OF 

PLODKINS. 


Which— life  or  death  ?    'Tis  a  gambler's  chance  ! 
Yet,  unconcerned,  we  spin  and  dance, 
On  the  brittle  thread  of  circumstance. 

I  UNDERSTAND  that  Plodkins  is  in  the  habit  of 
referring  skeptical  listeners  to  me,  and  telling  them 
that  I  will  substantiate  every  word  of  his  story. 
Now  this  is  hardly  fair  of  Plodkins.  I  can  cer- 
tainly corroborate  part  of  what  he  says,  and  I  can 
bear  witness  to  the  condition  in  which  I  found  him 
after  his  ordeal  was  over.  So  I  have  thought  it 
best,  in  order  to  set  myself  right  with  the  public,  to 
put  down  exactly  what  occurred.  If  I  were  asked 
whether  or  not  I  believe  Plodkins'  story  myself,  I 
would  have  to  answer  that  sometimes  I  believe  it, 
and  sometimes  I  do  not.  Of  course  Plodkins  will 
be  offended  when  he  reads  this,  but  there  are  other 
things  that  I  have  to  say  about  him  which  will  per- 
haps enrage  him  still  more ;  still  they  are  the  truth. 
For  instance,  Plodkins  can  hardly  deny,  and  yet 

ai9 


f^' 


lit'  » 
lit 


3  ■  I  ; 


i!  f 


2  20     7iy^  TERRIBLE  EXPERIENCE  OF  PLODKINS. 

probably  he  will  deny,  that  he  was  one  of  the  most 
talented  drinkers  in  America.  I  venture  to  say 
that  every  time  he  set  foot  in  Liverpool  coming 
East,  or  in  New  York  going  West,  he  was  just  on 
the  verge  of  delirium  tremens,  because,  being  neces- 
sarily idle  during  the  voyage,  he  did  little  else  but 
drink  and  smoke.  I  never  knew  a  man  who  could 
take  so  much  liquor  and  show  such  small  results. 
The  fact  was,  that  in  the  morning  Plodkins  was 
never  at  his  best,  because  he  was  nearer  sober  then 
than  at  any  other  part  of  the  day ;  but,  after  din- 
ner, a  more  entertaining,  genial,  generous,  kind- 
hearted  man  than  Hiram  Plodkins  could  not  be 
found  anywhere. 

I  want  to  speak  of  Plodkins'  story  with  the  calm, 
dispassionate  manner  of  a  judge,  rather  than  with 
the  partisanship  of  a  favorable  witness;  and  al- 
though my  allusion  to  Plodkins*  habits  of  intoxica- 
tion may  seem  to  him  defamatory  in  character,  and 
unnecessary,  yet  I  mention  them  only  fo  show  that 
something  terrible  must  have  occurred  in  the  bath- 
room to  make  him  stop  short.  The  extraordinary 
thing  is,  from  that  day  to  this  Plodkins  has  not 
touched  a  drop  of  intoxicating  liquor,  which  fact  in 
itself  strikes  me  as  more  wonderful  than  the  story 
he  tells. 

Plodkins  was  a  frequent  crosser  on  the  Atlantic 


i'  M      I: 


THE  TERRIBLE  EXPERIENCE  OF  PLODKINS.     221 


Steamers.  He  was  connected  with  commercial 
houses  on  both  sides  of  the  ocean ;  selling  in  Amer- 
ica for  an  English  house,  and  buying  in  England 
for  an  American  establishment.  I  presume  it  was 
his  experiences  in  selling  goods  that  led  to  his  terri- 
ble habits  of  drinking.  I  understood  from  him  that 
out  West,  if  you  are  selling  goods  you  have  to  do  a 
great  deal  of  treating,  and  every  time  you  treat  an- 
other man  to  a  glass  of  wine,  or  a  whisky  cocktail, 
you  have,  of  course,  to  drink  with  him.  But  this 
has  nothing  to  do  with  Plodkins'  story. 

On  an  Atlantic  liner,  when  there  is  a  large  list  of 
passengers,  especially  of  English  passengers,  it  is 
difficult  to  get  a  convenient  hour  in  the  morning  at 
which  to  take  a  bath.  This  being  the  case,  the 
purser  usually  takes  down  the  names  of  applicants 
and  assigns  each  a  particular  hour.  Your  hour  may 
be,  say  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  next 
man  comes  on  at  half-past  seven,  and  the  third  man 
at  eight,  and  so  on.  The  bedroom  steward  raps  at 
your  door  when  the  proper  time  arrives,  and  in- 
forms you  that  the  bath  is  ready.  You  wrap  a 
dressing-gown  or  a  cloak  around  you,  and  go  along 
the  silent  corridors  to  the  bath-room,  coming  back, 
generally  before  your  half  hour  is  up,  like  a  giant 
refreshed. 

Plodkins'  bath  hour  was  seven  o'clock   in   the 


2  22      THE  TERRIBLE  EXPERIENCE  01  I'LODKIAS. 


1 
\ 


morning.  Mine  was  half-past  seven.  On  the  par- 
ticular morning  in  question  the  steward  did  not  call 
me,  and  I  thought  he  had  forgotten,  so  I  passed 
along  the  dark  corridor  and  tried  the  bath-room 
door.  I  found  it  unbolted,  and  as  everything  was 
quiet  inside,  I  entered.  I  thought  nobody  was 
there,  so  I  shoved  the  bolt  in  the  door,  and  went 
over  to  see  if  the  water  had  been  turned  on.  The 
light  was  a  little  dim  even  at  that  time  of  the  morn- 
ing, and  I  must  say  I  was  horror-stricken  to  see, 
lying  in  the  bottom  of  the  bath  tub,  with  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  ceiling,  Plodkins.  I  am  quite  willing 
to  admit  that  I  was  never  so  startled  in  my  life.  I 
thought  at  first  Plodkins  was  dead,  notwithstanding 
his  open  eyes  staring  at  the  ceiling;  but  he  mur- 
mured, in  a  sort  of  husky  far-away  whisper,  "Thank 
God,"  and  then  closed  his  eyes. 

"What's  the  matter,  Plodkins?"  I  said,  "Are 
you  ill?  What's  the  matter  with  you?  Shall  I  call 
for  help?" 

There  was  a  feeble  negative  motion  of  the  head. 
Then  he  said,  in  a  whisper,  "Is  the  door  bolted?" 

**Yes,"  I  answered. 

After  another  moment's  pause,  I  said : 

"Shall  I  ring,  and  get  you  some  whisky  or 
brandy?" 

Again  he  shook  his  head.  ^ 


THE  TERRIBLE  EXPERIENCE  OF  PLODKINS.      223 


"Help  me  to  get  up,"  he  said  feebly. 

He  was  very  much  shaken,  and  I  had  some  trou- 
ble in  getting  him  on  his  feet,  and  seating  him  on 
the  one  chair  in  the  room. 

"You  had  better  come  to  my  stateroom,"  I  said; 
"it  is  nearer  than  yours.  What  has  happened  to 
you?" 

He  replied,  "I  will  go  in  a  moment.  Wait  a 
minute."     And  I  waited. 

"Now,"  he  continued,  when  he  had  apparently 
pulled  himself  together  a  bit,  "just  turn  on  the  elec- 
tric light,  will  you?" 

I  reached  up  to  the  peg  of  the  electric  light  and 
turned  it  on.  A  shudder  passed  over  Plodkins* 
frame,  but  he  said  nothing.  He  seemed  puzzled, 
and  once  more  I  asked  him  to  let  me  take  him  to 
my  stateroom,  but  he  shook  his  head. 

"Turn  on  the  water."     I  did  so. 

"Turn  out  the  electric  light."     I  did  that  also. 

"Now,"  he  added,  "put  your  hand  in  the  water 
ind  turn  on  the  electric  hght." 

I  was  convinced  Plodkins  had  become  insane,  but 
1  recollected  I  was  there  alone  with  him,  shaky  as 
he  was,  in  a  room  with  a  bolted  door,  so  I  put  my 
fingers  in  the  water  and  attempted  to  turn  on  the 
electric  light.  I  got  a  shock  that  was  very  much 
greater  than    that   which    I    received   when   I  saw 


9!l 


-(•^  ■! 


224     THE  TERRIBLE  EXPERIEKCE  OF  PLODKINS. 

Plodkins  lying  at  the  bottom  of  the  bath-tub.  1 
gave  a  yell  and  a  groan,  and  staggered  backward. 
Then  Plodkins  laughed  a  feeble  laugh. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "I  will  go  with  you  to  your 
stateroom." 

The  laugh  seemed  to  have  braced  up  Plodkins 
like  a  glass  of  liquor  would  have  done,  and  when  we 
got  to  my  stateroom  he  was  able  to  tell  me  what 
had  happened.  As  a  sort  of  preface  to  his  remarks, 
I  would  like  to  say  a  word  or  two  about  that  bath- 
tub. It  was  similar  to  bath-tubs  on  board  other 
steamers ;  a  great  and  very  deep  receptacle  of  solid 
marble.  There  were  different  nickel-plated  taps  for 
letting  in  hot  or  cold  water,  or  fresh  water  or  salt 
water  as  was  desired ;  and  the  escape  pipe  instead 
of  being  at  the  end,  as  it  is  in  most  bath  tubs,  was 
in  the  center.  It  was  the  custom  of  the  bath-room 
steward  to  fill  it  about  half  full  of  water  at  what- 
ever temperature  you  desired.  Then,  placing  a 
couple  of  towels  on  the  rack,  he  would  go  and  call 
the  man  whose  hour  it  was  to  bathe. 

Plodkins  said :  **When  I  went  in  there  everything 
appeared  as  usual,  except  that  the  morning  was 
very  dark.  I  stood  in  the  bath-tub,  the  water  com- 
ing nearly  to  my  knees,  and  reached  up  to  turn  on 
the  electric  light.  The  moment  I  touched  the 
brass  key  I  received  a  shock  that  simply  paralyzed 


'\  %  \ 


THE  TERRIBLE  EXPERIENCE  OF  PLODK'INS. 


225 


me.  I  think  liquor  has  something  to  do  with  the 
awful  effect  the  electricity  had  upon  me,  because  I 
had  taken  too  much  the  night  before,  and  was  feel- 
ing very  shaky  indeed;  but  the  result  was  that  I 
simply  fell  full  length  in  the  bath-tub,  just  as  you 
found  me.  I  was  unable  to  move  anything  except 
my  fingers  and  toes.  I  did  not  appear  to  be  hurt  in 
the  least,  and  my  senses,  instead  of  being  dulled  by 
the  shock,  seemed  to  be  preternaturally  sharp,  and 
I  realized  in  a  moment  that  if  this  inability  to  move 
remained  with  me  for  five  minutes  I  was  a  dead 
man — dead,  not  from  the  shock,  but  by  drowning. 
I  gazed  up  through  that  clear  green  water,  and  I 
could  see  the  ripples  on  the  surface  slowly  subsid- 
ing after  my  plunge  into  the  tub.  It  reminded  me 
of  looking  into  an  aquarium.  You  know  how  you 
see  up  through  the  water  to  the  surface  with  the 
bubbles  rising  to  the  top.  I  knew  that  nobody 
would  come  in  for  at  least  half  an  hour,  and  even 
then  I  couldn't  remember  whether  I  had  bolted  the 
door  or  not.  Sometimes  I  bolt  it,  and  sometimes  I 
don't.  I  didn't  this  morning,  as  it  happens.  All 
the  time  I  felt  that  strength  was  slowly  returning 
to  me,  for  I  continually  worked  my  fingers  and 
toes,  and  now  feeling  seemed  to  be  coming  up  to 
my  wrists  and  arms.  Then  I  remembered  that  the 
vent  was  in  the  middle  of  the  bath-tub ;  so,  wrig- 


226      THE  TERRIBLE  EXPERIENCE  OF  PLODKINS, 


m. 


if  % 


gling  my  fingers  around,  I  got  hold  of  the  ring,  and 
pulled  up  the  plug.  In  the  dense  silence  that  was 
around  me,  I  could  not  tell  whether  the  water  was 
running  out  or  not ;  but  gazing  up  toward  the  ceil- 
ing I  thought  I  saw  the  surface  gradually  sinking 
down  and  down  and  down.  Of  course  it  couldn't 
have  been  more  than  a  few  seconds,  but  it  seemed 
to  be  years  and  years  and  years.  I  knew  that  if 
once  I  let  my  breath  go  I  would  be  drowned, 
merely  by  the  spasmodic  action  of  my  lungs  trying 
to  recover  air.  I  felt  as  if  I  should  burst.  It  was  a 
match  against  time,  with  life  or  death  as  the  stake. 
At  first,  as  I  said,  my  senses  were  abnormally  sharp, 
but,  by  and  by,  I  began  to  notice  that  they  were 
wavering.  I  thought  the  glassy  surface  of  the 
water,  which  I  could  see  above  me,  was  in  reality  a 
great  sheet  of  crystal  that  somebody  was  pressing 
down  upon  me,  and  I  began  to  think  that  the  mo- 
ment it  reached  my  face  I  would  smother.  I  tried 
to  struggle,  but  was  held  with  a  grip  of  steel. 
Finally,  this  slab  of  crystal  came  down  to  my  nose, 
and  seemed  to  split  apart.  I  could  hold  on  no 
longer,  and  with  a  mighty  expiration  blew  the 
water  up  toward  the  ceiling,  and  drew  in  a  frightful 
smothering  breath  of  salt  water,  that  I  blew  in  turn 
upward,  and  the  next  breath  I  took  in  had  some  air 
with  the  water.     I  felt  the  water  tickling  the  cor- 


THE  TERRIBLE  EXPERIENCE  OF  PLODKINS.      227 

ners  of  my  mouth,  and  receding  slower  and  slower 
down  my  face  and  neck.  Then  I  think  I  must 
have  become  insensible  until  just  before  you 
entered  the  room.  Of  course  there  is  something 
wrong  with  the  electric  fittings,  and  there  fs  a  leak 
of  electricity ;  but  I  think  liquor  is  at  the  bottom  of 
all  this.  I  don't  believe  it  would  have  affected  me 
like  this  if  I  had  not  been  soaked  in  whisky." 

"If  I  were  you,"  I  said,  "I  would  leave  whisky 
alone." 

"I  intend  to,"  he  answered  solemnly,  "and  baths 
too." 


i  i 


IJJ.' 


i') 


I 


li 


A  CASE  OF  FEVER. 


Oh,  underneath  the  blood-red  sun, 
No  bloodier  deed  was  ever  done ! 
Nor  fiercer  retribution  sought 
The  hand  that  first  red  ruin  wrought. 

This  is  the  doctor's  story : 

The  doctors  on  board  the  Atlantic  liners  are 
usually  young  men.  They  are  good-looking  and 
entertaining  as  well,  and  generally  they  can  play 
the  violin  or  some  other  instrument  that  is  of  great 
use  at  the  inevitable  concert  which  takes  place 
about  the  middle  of  the  Atlantic.  They  are  ur- 
bane,  polite  young  men,  and  they  chat  pleasantly 
and  nicely  to  the  ladies  on  board.  I  believe  that 
the  doctor  on  the  Transatlantic  steamer  has  to  be 
there  on  account  of  the  steerage  passengers.  Of 
course  the  doctor  goes  to  the  steerage;  but  I  imag- 
ine, as  a  general  thing,  he  does  not  spend  any  more 
time  there  than  the  rules  of  the  service  compel  him 
to.     The  ladies,  at  least,  would   be  unanimous  in 

89Q 


23© 


A  CASE  OF  FEVER. 


'     11 


I     i 


saying  that  the  doctor  is  one  of  the  most  charming 
officials  on  board  the  ship. 

This  doctor,  who  tells  the  story  I  am  about  to 
relate,  was  not  like  the  usual  Atlantic  physician. 
He  was  older  than  the  average,  and,  to  judge  by 
his  somewhat  haggard,  rugged  face,  had  seen  hard 
times  and  rough  usage  in  different  parts  of  the 
world.  Why  he  came  to  settle  down  on  an  Atlan- 
tic steamer — a  berth  which  is  a  starting-point  rather 
than  a  terminus — I  have  no  means  of  knowing. 
He  never  told  us ;  but  there  he  was,  and  one  night, 
as  he  smoked  his  pipe  with  u"  in  the  smoking  room, 
we  closed  the  door,  and  co  Ued  him  to  tell  us  a 
story. 

As  a  preliminary,  he  took  out  of  his  inside  pocket 
a  book,  from  which  he  selected  a  slip  of  creased 
paper,  which  had  been  there  so  long  that  it  was 
rather  the  worse  for  wear,  and  had  to  be  tenderly 
handled. 

"As  a  beginning,"  said  the  doctor,  "I  will  read 
you  what  this  slip  of  paper  says.  It  is  an  extract 
from  one  of  the  United  States  Government  Reports 
in  the  Indian  department,  and  it  relates  to  a  case  of 
fever,  which  caused  the  death  of  the  celebrated  In- 
dian chief  Wolf  Tusk. 

"I  am  not  sure  that  I  am  doing  quite  right  in 
telling  this  story.    There  may  be  some  risk  for  my- 


A  CASE  OF  FEVER. 


231 


self  in  relating  it,  and  I  don't  know  exactly  what 
the  United  States  Government  might  have  in  store 
for  me  if  the  truth  came  to  be  known.  In  fact,  I 
am  not  able  to  say  whether  I  acted  rightly  or 
wrongly  in  the  matter  I  have  to  tell  you  about. 
You  shall  be  the  best  judges  of  that.  There  is  no 
question  but  Wolf  Tusk  was  an  old  monster,  and 
there  is  no  question  either  that  the  men  who  dealt 
with  him  had  been  grievously — but,  then,  there  is 
no  use  in  my  giving  you  too  many  preliminaries; 
each  one  will  say  for  himself  whether  he  would 
have  acted  as  I  did  or  not.  I  will  make  my  ex- 
cuses at  the  end  of  the  story."  Then  he  read  the 
slip  of  paper.  I  have  not  a  copy  of  it,  and  have  to 
quote  from  memory.  It  was  the  report  of  the  phy- 
sician who  saw  Wolf  Tusk  die,  and  it  went  on  to 
say  that  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  a  heavy 
and  unusual  fever  set  in  on  that  chief.  He  had 
been  wounded  in  the  battle  of  the  day  before,  when 
he  was  captured,  and  the  fever  attacked  all  parts  of 
his  body.  Although  the  doctor  had  made  every 
effort  in  his  power  to  relieve  the  Indian,  nothing 
could  stop  the  ravages  of  the  fever.  At  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  having  been  in  great  pain,  and, 
during  the  latter  part,  delirious,  he  died,  and  was 
buried  near  the  spot  where  he  had  taken  ill.  This 
was  signed  by  the  doctor. 


p  « 


t;-ti  i 


t^ 


! 


|i 


ii 


232 


il  CASE  OF  FEVER. 


"What  I  have  read  you,"  said  the  physician,  fold- 
ing up  the  paper  again,  and  placing  it  in  his  pocket- 
book,  "is  strictly  and  accurately  true,  otherwise,  of 
course,  I  would  not  have  so  reported  to  the  Govern- 
ment. Wolf  Tusk  was  the  chief  of  a  band  of  irrec- 
oncilables,  who  were  now  in  one  part  of  the  West 
and  now  in  another,  giving  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
to  the  authorities.  Wolf  Tusk  and  his  band  had 
splendid  horses,  and  they  never  attacked  a  force 
that  out-numbered  their  own.  In  fact,  they  never 
attacked  anything  where  the  chances  were  not  twenty 
to  one  in  their  favor,  but  that,  of  course,  is  Indian 
warfare;  and  in  this.  Wolf  Tusk  was  no  different 
from  his  fellows. 

"On  one  occasion  Wolf  Tusk  and  his  band 
swooped  down  on  a  settlement  where  they  knew 
that  all  the  defenders  were  away,  and  no  one  but 
women  and  children  were  left  to  meet  them.  Here 
one  of  the  most  atrocious  massacres  of  the  West 
took  place.  Every  woman  and  child  in  the  settle- 
ment was  killed  under  circumstances  of  inconceiv- 
able brutality.  The  buildings,  such  as  they  were, 
were  burned  down,  and,  when  the  men  returned, 
they  found  nothing  but  heaps  of  smoldering  ruin. 

"Wolf  Tusk  and  his  band,  knowing  there  would 
be  trouble  about  this,  had  made  for  the  broken 
ground  where  they  could  so  well  defend  themselves. 


A  CASE  OF  FEVER. 


233 


The  alarm,  however,  was  speedily  given,  and  a  com- 
pany of  cavalry  from  the  nearest  fort  started  in  hot 
pursuit. 

"I  was  the  physician  who  accompanied  the 
troops.  The  men  whose  families  had  been  massa- 
cred, and  who  were  all  mounted  on  swift  horses, 
begged  permission  to  go  with  the  soldiers,  and  that 
permission  was  granted,  because  it  was  known  that 
their  leader  would  take  them  after  Wolf  Tusk  on 
his  own  account,  and  it  was  thought  better  to  have 
everyone  engaged  in  the  pursuit  under  the  direct 
command  of  the  chief  officer. 

"He  divided  his  troop  into  three  parts,  one  fol- 
lowing slowly  after  Wolf  Tusk,  and  the  other  two 
taking  roundabout  ways  to  head  off  the  savages 
from  the  broken  ground  and  foothills  from  which 
no  number  of  United  States  troops  could  have  dis- 
lodged them.  These  flanking  parties  were  partly 
successful.  They  did  not  succeed  in  heading  off 
the  Indians  entirely,  but  one  succeeded  in  changing 
their  course,  and  throwing  the  Indians  unexpect- 
edly into  the  way  of  the  other  flanking  party,  when 
a  sharp  battle  took  place,  and,  during  its  progress, 
we  in  the  rear  came  up.  When  the  Indians  saw 
our  reinforcing  party  come  toward  them,  each  man 
broke  away  for  himself  and  made  for  the  wilder- 
ness.    Wolf  Tusk,  who  had  been  wounded,  and  had 


234 


A  CASE  OF  FEVER. 


S> 


'I      .;! 


his  horse  shot  under  him,  did  not  succeed  in  escap- 
ing. The  two  flanking  parties  now  having  reunited 
with  the  main  body,  it  was  decided  to  keep  the 
Indians  on  the  run  for  a  day  or  two  at  least,  and  so 
a  question  arose  as  to  the  disposal  of  the  wounded 
chief.  He  could  not  be  taken  with  the  fighting 
party ;  there  were  no  soldiers  to  spare  to  take  him 
back,  and  so  the  leader  of  the  settlers  said  that  as 
they  had  had  enough  of  war,  they  would  convey 
him  to  the  fort.  Why  the  commander  allowed  this 
to  be  done,  I  do  not  know.  He  must  have  realized 
the  feelings  of  the  settlers  toward  the  man  who 
massacred  their  wives  and  children.  However,  the 
request  of  the  settlers  was  acceded  to,  and  I  was 
ordered  back  also,  ^s  I  had  been  slightly  wounded. 
You  can  see  the  mark  here  on  my  cheek,  nothing 
serious;  but  the  commander  thought  I  had  better 
get  back  into  the  fort,  as  he  was  certain  there 
would  be  no  more  need  of  my  services.  The  Indi- 
ans were  on  the  run,  and  would  make  no  further  stand. 

"It  was  about  three  days'  march  from  where  the 
engagement  had  taken  place  to  the  fort.  Wolf 
Tusk  was  given  one  of  the  captured  Indian  horses. 
I  attended  to  the  wound  in  his  leg,  and  he  was 
strapped  on  the  horse,  so  that  there  could  be  no 
possibility  of  his  escaping. 

"We  camped  the  first  night  in  a  little  belt  of  tim- 


A  CASE  OF  FEVER. 


235 


ber  that  bordered  a  small  stream,  now  nearly  dry. 
In  the  morning  I  was  somewhat  rudely  awakened, 
and  found  myself  tied  hand  and  foot,  with  two  or 
three  of  the  settlers  standing  over  me.  They 
helped  me  to  my  feet,  then  half  carried  and  half  led 
me  to  a  tree,  where  they  tied  me  securely  to  the 
trunk. 

"  'What  are  you  going  to  do?  What  is  the  mean- 
ing of  this?'  I  said  to  them  in  astonishment. 

"  'Nothing,*  was  the  answer  of  the  leader ;  'that 
is,  nothing,  if  you  will  sign  a  certain  medical  report 
which  is  to  go  to  the  Government.  You  will  see, 
from  where  you  are,  everything  that  is  going  to 
happen,  and  we  expect  you  to  report  truthfully; 
but  we  will  take  the  liberty  of  writing  the  report 
for  you.* 

"Then  I  noticed  that  Wolf  Tusk  was  tied  to  a 
tree  in  a  manner  similar  to  myself,  and  around  him 
had  been  collected  a  quantity  of  firewood.  This 
firewood  was  not  piled  up  to  his  feet,  but  formed  a 
circle  at  some  distance  from  him,  so  that  the  Indian 
would  be  slowly  roasted. 

"There  is  no  use  in  my  describing  what  took 
place.  When  I  tell  you  that  they  lit  the  fire  at 
nine  o'clock,  and  that  it  was  not  until  four  in  the 
afternoon  that  Wolf  Tusk  died,  you  will  understand 
the  peculiar  horror  of  it. 


w 


} 


n 


I 


HI  ll 


1  : 


If"* 


236 


A  CASE  OF  FEVER. 


"  'Now,*  said  the  leader  to  me  when  everything 
was  over,  'here  is  the  report  I  have  written  out,' 
and  he  read  to  me  the  report  which  I  have  read  to 
you. 

"'This  dead  villain  has  murdered  our  wives  and 
our  children.  If  I  could  have  made  his  torture  last 
for  two  weeks  I  would  have  done  so.  You  have 
made  every  effort  to  save  him  by  trying  to  break 
loose,  and  you  have  not  succeeded.  We  are  not 
going  to  harm  you,  even  though  you  refuse  to  sign 
this  report.  You  cannot  bring  him  to  life  again, 
thank  God,  and  all  you  can  do  is  to  put  more 
trouble  on  the  heads  of  men  who  have  already, 
through  red  devils  like  this,  had  more  trouble  than 
they  can  well  stand  and  keep  sane.  Will  you  sign 
the  report?' 

"I  said  I  would,  and  I  did." 


iii 


HOW  THE  CAPTAIN  GOT  HIS 
STEAMER  OUT. 


On  his  own  perticular  well-wrought  row, 
That  he's  straddled  for  ages- 
Learnt  its  lay  and  its  gages— 

His  style  may  seem  queer,  but  permit  him  to  know. 

The  likeliest,  sprightliest,  manner  to  hoe. 

"There  is  nothing  more  certain  than  that  some 
day  we  will  have  to  record  a  terrible  disaster  di- 
rectly  traceable  to  ocean  racing. 

"The  vivid  account  which  one  of  our  reporters 
gves  in  another  column  of  how  the  captain  of  the 
Arrowic  went  blundering  across  the  bar  yesterday 
in  one  of  the  densest  fogs  of  the  season  is  very 
interesting  reading.  Of  course  the  account  does 
not  pretend  to  be  anything  more  than  imaginary, 
for,  until  the  Arrowic  reaches  Queenstown,  if  she 
ever  does  under  her  present  captain,  no  one  can  tell 
how  much  of  luck  was  mixed  with  the  recklessness 
which  took  this  steamer  out  into  the  Atlantic  in  the 
midst  of  the  thickest  fog  we  have  had  this  year. 

as? 


m 


238     BOW'  THE  CAPTAIN  GOT  HIS  STEAMER  OUT, 


MJ: 


m 


iPI 


% 


t 


If 


All  that  can  be  known  at  present  is,  that,  when  the 
fog  lifted,  the  splendid  steamer  Dartonia  was  lying 
at  anchor  in  the  bay,  having  missed  the  tide,  while 
the  Arrowic  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  If  the  fog 
was  too  thick  for  the  Dartonia  to  cross  the  bar, 
how,  then,  did  the  captain  of  the  Arrowic  get  his 
boat  out?  The  captain  of  the  Arrowic  should  be 
taught  to  remember  that  there  are  other  things 
to  be  thought  of  beside  the  defeating  of  a  rival 
steamer.  He  should  be  made  to  understand  that 
he  has  under  his  charge  a  steamer  worth  a  million 
and  a  half  of  dollars,  and  a  cargo  probably  nearly  as 
valuable.  Still,  he  might  have  lost  his  ship  and 
cargo,  and  we  would  have  had  no  word  to  say. 
That  concerns  the  steamship  company  and  the  own- 
ers of  the  cargo ;  but  he  had  also  in  his  care  nearly 
a  thousand  human  lives,  and  these  he  should  not  be 
allowed  to  juggle  with  in  order  to  beat  all  the  rival 
steamers  in  the  world." 

The  above  editorial  is  taken  from  the  columns  of 
the  New  York  Daily  Mentor.  The  substance  of  it 
had  been  cabled  across  to  London,  and  it  made 
pleasant  reading  for  the  captain  of  the  Arrowic 
at  Queenstown.  The  captain  didn't  say  anything 
about  it;  he  was  not  a  talkative  man.  Probably 
he  explained  to  his  chief,  if  the  captain  of  an 
ocean  liner  can  possibly  have  a  chief,  how  he  got 


HO  IV  THE  CAPTAIN  GOT  HIS  STEAMER  OUT.     239 

his  vessel  out  of  New  York  harbor  in  a  fog ;  but,  if 
he  did,  the  explanation  was  never  made  public,  and 
so  here's  an  account  of  it  published  for  the  first 
time,  and  it  may  give  a  pointer  to  the  captain  of 
the  rival  liner  Dartonia.  I  may  say,  however,  that 
the  purser  was  not  as  silent  as  the  captain.  He 
was  very  indignant  at  what  he  called  the  outrage  of 
the  New  York  paper,  and  said  a  great  many  unjus- 
tifiable things  about  newspaper  men.  He  knew  I 
was  a  newspaper  man  myself,  and  probably  that  is 
the  reason  he  launched  his  maledictions  against  the 
fraternity  at  my  head. 

"Just  listen  to  that  wretched  penny-a-liner,"  he 
said,  rapping  savagely  on  the  paper  with  the  back 
of  his  hand. 

I  intimated  mildly  that  they  paid  more  than  a 
penny  a  line  for  newspaper  work  in  New  York,  but 
he  said  that  wasn't  the  point.  In  fact  the  purser 
was  too  angry  to  argue  calmly.  He  was  angry  the 
whole  way  from  Queenstown  to  Liverpool. 

"Here,"  he  said,  "is  some  young  fellow,  who 
probably  never  saw  the  inside  of  a  ship  in  his  life, 
and  yet  he  thinks  he  can  tell  the  captain  of  a  great 
ocean  liner  what  should  be  done  and  what 
shouldn't.     Just  think  of  the  cheek  of  it !" 

"I  don't  see  any  cheek  in  it,"  I  said,  as  sooth- 
ingly as  possible.    "You  don't  mean  to  pretend  to 


24©     HOW  THE  CAPTAIN  GOT  HIS  STEAMER  OUT. 


\m 


Vis. 


f 

w 

1 

1 

I 
1 

argue  at  this  time  of  day  that  a  newspaper  man 
does  not  know  how  to  conduct  every  other  business 
as  well  as  his  own." 

But  the  purser  did  make  that  very  contention, 
although  of  course  he  must  be  excused,  for,  as  I 
said,  he  was  not  in  a  good  temper. 

"Newspaper  men,"  he  continued,  "act  as  if  they 
did  know  everything.  They  pretend  in  their  pa- 
pers that  every  man  thinks  he  knows  how  to  run 
a  newspaper  or  a  hotel.  But  look  at  their  own 
case.  See  the  advice  they  give  to  statesmen. 
See  how  they  would  govern  Germany,  or  England, 
or  any  other  country  under  the  sun.  Does  a  big 
bank  get  into  trouble,  the  newspaper  man  at  once 
informs  the  financiers  how  they  should  have  con- 
ducted their  business.  Is  there  a  great  railway 
smash-up,  the  newspaper  man  shows  exactly  how  it 
could  have  been  avoided  if  he  had  had  the  manage- 
ment of  the  railway.  Is  there  a  big  strike,  the 
newspaper  man  steps  in.  He  tells  both  sides  what 
they  should  do.  If  every  man  thinks  he  can  run  a 
hotel,  or  a  newspaper — and  I  am  sure  most  men 
could  run  a  newspaper  as  well  as  the  newspapers 
are  conducted  now — the  conceit  of  the  ordinary 
man  is  nothing  to  the  conceit  of  the  newspaper 
man.  He  not  only  thinks  he  can  run  a  newspaper 
and  a  hotel,  but  every  other  business  under  the  sun." 


sun. 


HOW  THE  CAPTAIN  GOT  HIS  STEAMER  OUT.      241 

"And  how  do  you  know  he  can't?"  I  asked. 

But  the  purser  would  not  listen  to  reason.  He 
contended  that  a  captain  who  had  crossed  the 
ocean  hundreds  of  times,  and  for  years  and  years 
had  worked  his  way  up,  had  just  as  big  a  sense  of 
responsibility  for  his  passengers  and  his  ship  and 
his  cargo  as  any  newspaper  man  in  New  York  could 
have,  and  this  palpably  absurd  contention  he  main- 
tained all  the  way  to  Liverpool. 

When  a  great  ocean  racer  is  making  ready  to  put 
out  to  sea,  there  can  hardly  be  imagined  a  more 
bustling  scene  than  that  which  presents  itself  on 
the  deck  and  on  the  wharf.  There  is  the  rush  of 
passengers,  the  banging  about  of  luggage,  the  hur- 
rying to  and  fro  on  the  decks,  the  roar  of  escaping 
steam,  the  working  of  immense  steam  cranes  hoist- 
ing and  lowering  great  bales  of  merchandise  and 
luggage  from  the  wharf  to  the  hold,  and  here  and 
there  in  quiet  corners,  away  from  the  rush,  are  tear- 
ful people  bidding  good-by  to  one  another. 

The  Arrowic  and  the  Dartonia  left  on  the  same 
day  and  within  the  same  hour,  from  wharfs  that 
were  almost  adjoining  each  other.  We  on  board 
the  Arrowic  could  see  the  same  bustle  and  stir  on 
board  the  Dartonia  that  we  ourselves  were  in  the 
midst  of. 

The  Dartonia  was  timed  to  leave  about  half  an 


242     HOW  THE  CAPTAIN  GOT  HIS  STEAMER  OUT. 


\¥ 


I 


hour  ahead  of  us,  and  we  heard  the  frantic  ringing 
of  her  last  bell  warning  everybody  to  get  on  shore 
who  was  not  going  to  cross  the  ocean.  Then  the 
great  steamer  backed  slowly  out  from  her  wharf. 

Of  course  all  of  us  who  were  going  on  the  Ar- 
rowic  were  warm  champions  of  that  ship  as  the 
crack  ocean  racer;  but,  as  the  Dartonia  moved 
backward  with  slow,  stately  majesty,  all  her  colors 
flying,  and  her  decks  black  with  passengers  crowd- 
ing to  the  rail  and  gazing  toward  us,  we  could  not 
deny  that  she  was  a  splendid  vessel,  and  "even  the 
ranks  of  Tuscany  could  scarce  forbear  a  cheer." 
Once  out  in  the  stream  her  twin  screws  enabled  her 
to  turn  around  almost  without  the  help  of  tugs,  and 
just  as  our  last  bell  was  ringing  she  moved  off  down 
the  bay.  Then  we  backed  slowly  out  in  the  same 
fashion,  and,  although  we  had  not  the  advantage  of 
seeing  ourselves,  we  saw  a  great  sight  on  the  wharf, 
which  was  covered  with  people,  ringing  with  cheers, 
and  white  with  the  flutter  of  handkerchiefs. 

As  we  headed  down  stream  the  day  began  to  get 
rather  thick.  It  had  been  gloomy  all  morning,  and 
by  the  time  we  reached  the  statue  of  Liberty  in  was 
so  foggy  that  one  could  hardly  see  three  boats' 
length  ahead  or  behind.  All  eyes  were  strained  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  Dartonia^  but  nothing  of  her 
was  visible.     Shortly  after,  the  fog  came  down  in 


HOW  THE  CAPTAIN  GOT  HIS  STEAMER  OUT.      243 

earnest  and  blotted  out  everything.  There  was  a 
strong  wind  blowing,  and  the  vapor,  which  was  cold 
and  piercing,  swept  the  deck  with  dripping  moist- 
ure. Then  we  came  to  a  standstill.  The  ship's  bell 
was  rung  continually  forward,  and  somebody  was 
whanging  on  the  gong  toward  the  stern.  Every- 
body knew  that,  if  this  sort  of  thing  lasted  long,  we 
would  not  get  over  the  bar  that  tide,  and  conse- 
quently everybody  felt  annoyed,  for  this  delay 
would  lengthen  the  trip,  and  people,  as  a  general 
thing,  do  not  take  passage  on  an  ocean  racer  with 
the  idea  of  getting  in  a  day  late.  Suddenly  the  fog 
lifted  clear  from  shore  to  shore.  Then  we  saw 
something  that  was  not  calculated  to  put  our  minds 
at  ease.  A  big  three-masted  vessel,  with  full  sail, 
dashed  past  us  only  a  very  few  yards  behind  the 
stern  of  the  mammoth  steamer. 

"Look  at  that  blundering  idiot,"  said  the  purser 
to  me,  "rushing  full  speed  over  crowded  New  York 
Bay  in  a  fog  as  thick  as  pea  soup.  A  captain  who 
would  do  a  thing  like  that  ought  to  be  hanged." 

Before  the  fog  settled  down  again  we  saw  the 
Dartonia  with  her  anchor  chain  out  a  few  hundred 
yards  to  our  left,  and,  further  on,  one  of  the  big 
German  steamers,  also  at  anchor. 

In  the  short  time  that  the  fog  was  lifted  our  own 
vessel  made  some  progress  toward  the  bar.    Then 


244     HOW  THE  CAPTAIN  GOT  HIS  STEAMER  OUT. 


►'.»•:..* 


the  thickness  came  down  again.  A  nautical  pas- 
senger, who  had  crossed  many  times,  came  aft  to 
where  I  was  standing,  and  said : 

"Do  you  notice  what  the  captain  is  trying  to 
do?" 

"Well,"  I  answered,  "I  don't  see  how  anybody 
can  do  anything  in  weather  like  this." 

"There  is  a  strong  wind  blowing,"  continued  the 
nautical  passenger,  "and  the  fog  is  liable  to  lift  for 
a  few  minutes  at  a  time.  If  it  lifts  often  enough  our 
captain  is  going  to  get  us  over  the  bar.  It  will  be 
rather  a  sharp  bit  of  work  if  he  succeeds.  You 
notice  that  the  Dartonia  has  thrown  out  her  anchor. 
She  is  evidently  going  to  wait  where  she  is  until  the 
fog  clears  away  entirely." 

So  with  that  we  two  went  forward  to  see  what 
was  being  done.  The  captain  stood  on  the  bridge 
and  beside  him  the  pilot,  but  the  fog  was  now  so 
thick  we  could  hardly  see  them,  although  we  stood 
close  by  on  the  piece  of  deck  in  front  of  the  wheel- 
house.  The  almost  incessant  clanging  of  the  bell 
was  kept  up,  and  in  the  pauses  we  heard  answering 
bells  from  different  points  in  the  thick  fog.  Then, 
for  a  second  time,  and  with  equal  suddenness,  the 
fog  lifted  ahead  of  us.  Behind  we  could  not  see 
either  the  Dartonia  or  the  German  steamer.  Our 
own  boat,  however,  went  full  speed  ahead  and  kept 


HOW  THE  CAPTAIN  GOT  HIS  STEAMER  OUT.     245 

up  the  pace  till  the  fog  shut  down  again.  The  cap- 
tain now,  in  pacing  the  bridge,  had  his  chronometer 
in  his  hand,  and  those  of  us  who  were  at  the  front 
frequently  looked  at  our  watches,  for  of  course  the 
nautical  passenger  knew  just  how  late  it  was  possi- 
ble for  us  to  cross  the  bar. 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  the  passenger,  "he  is  not 
going  to  succeed."  But,  as  he  said  this,  the  fog 
lifted  for  the  third  time,  and  again  the  mammoth 
steamer  forged  ahead. 

"If  this  clearance  will  only  last  for  ten  minutes," 
said  the  nautical  passenger,  "we  are  all  right."  But 
the  fog,  as  if  it  had  heard  him,  closed  down  on  us 
again  damper  and  thicker  than  ever. 

"We  are  just  at  the  bar,"  said  the  nautical  pas- 
senger, "and  if  this  doesn't  clear  up  pretty  soon  the 
vessel  will  have  to  go  back." 

The  captain  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  chronome- 
ter in  his  hand.  The  pilot  tried  to  peer  ahead,  but 
everything  was  a  thick  white  blank. 

"Ten  minutes  more  and  it  is  too  late,"  said  the 
nautical  passenger. 

There  was  a  sudden  rift  in  the  fog  that  gave  a 
moment's  hope,  but  it  closed  down  again.  A  min- 
ute afterward,  with  a  suddenness  that  was  strange, 
the  whole  blue  ocean  lay  before  us.  Then  full 
steam  ahead.    The  fog  still  was  thick  behind  us  in 


M 


246     J/OPV  THE  CAPTAIN  GOT  HIS  STEAMER  OUT. 


New  York  Bay.  We  saw  it  far  ahead  coming  in 
from  the  ocean.  All  at  once  the  captain  closed  his 
chronometer  with  a  snap.  We  were  over  the  bar 
and  into  the  Atlantic,  and  that  is  how  the  captain 
got  the  Arrowic  out  of  New  York  Bay. 


MY  STOWAWAY. 


Ye  can  play  yer  jokes  on  Nature, 

An'  play  'em  slick  ; 
She'll  grin  a  grin,  but,  land  sakes,  friend, 

Look  out  fer  the  kick  ! 

One  night  about   eleven  o'clock  I  stood  at  the 
stern  of  that  fine  Atlantic  steamship,  the  City  of 
Venice,  which  was   plowing   its  way  through   the 
darkness  toward  America.     I  leaned  on  the  rounded 
bulwark  and  enjoyed  a  smoke,  as  I  gazed  on  the 
luminous  trail  the  wheel  was  making  in  the  quiet 
sea.     Someone  touched    me  on   the  shoulder,  say- 
ing, "Beg  pardon,  sir" ;  and,  on  straightening  up,  I 
saw  in  the  dim  light  a  man  whom  at  first  I  took  to 
be  one  of  the  steerage  passengers.     I  thought  he 
wanted  to  get  past  me,  for  the  room   was  rather 
restricted   in   the  passage   between   the  aft  wheel- 
house  and  the  stern,  and  I  moved  aside.     The  man 
looked   hurriedly  to  one  side   and  then  the  other 

and,  approaching,  said  in  a  whisper,  "I'm  starving, 
sir!" 


\\^. 


Ill 


W  I 


248 


AfY  STOWAWAY. 


"Why  don't  you  go  and  get  something  to  eat, 
then?    Don't  they  give  you  plenty  forward?" 

"I  suppose  they  do,  sir;  but  I'm  a  stowaway. 
I  got  on  at  Liverpool.  What  little  I  took  with  me 
is  gone,  and  for  two  days  I've  had  nothing." 

"Come  with  me.  I'll  take  you  to  the  steward, 
he'll  fix  you  all  right." 

"Oh,  no,  no,  no,"  he  cried,  trembling  with  excite- 
ment. "If  you  speak  to  any  of  the  officers  or  crew 
I'm  lost.  I  assure  you,  sir,  I'm  an  honest  man,  I 
am  indeed,  sir.  It's  the  old  story — nothing  but 
starvation  at  home,  so  my  only  chance  seemed  to 
be  to  get  this  way  to  America.  If  I'm  caught  I 
shall  get  dreadful  usage  and  will  be  taken  back  and 
put  in  jail." 

"Oh,  you're  mistaken.  The  officers  are  all  cour- 
teous gentlemen." 

"Yes,  to  you  cabin  passengers  they  are.  But  to 
a  stowaway — that's  a  different  matter.  If  you  can't 
help  me,  sir,  please  don't  inform  on  me." 

"How  can  1  help  you  but  by  speaking  to  the 
captain  or  purser?" 

"Get  me  a  morsel  to  eat." 

"Where  were  you  hid?" 

"Right  here,  sir,  in  this  place,"  and  he  put  his 
hand  on  the  square  deck  edifice  beside  us.  This 
seemed  to  be  a  spare  wheelhouse,  used  if  anything 


MY  SrOVTAWAY, 


249 


the 


his 
'his 
ling 


went  wrong  with  the  one  in  front.  It  had  a  door 
on  each  side  and  there  were  windows  all  round  it. 
At  present  it  was  piled  full  of  cane  folding  steamer 
chairs  and  other  odds  and  ends. 

"I  crawl  in  between  the  chairs  and  the  wall  and 
get  under  that  piece  of  tarpaulin." 

"Well,  you're  sure  of  being  caught,  for  the  first 
fine  day  all  these  chairs  will  be  taken  out  and  the 
deck  steward  can't  miss  you." 

The  man  sighed  as  I  said  this  and  admitted  the 
chances  were  much  against  him.  Then,  starting 
up,  he  cried,  "Poverty  is  the  great  crime.  If  I  had 
stolen  someone  else's  money  I  would  have  been 
able  to  take  cabin  passage  instead  of " 

"If  you  weren't  caught." 

"Well,  if  I  were  caught,  what  then?  I  would  be 
well  fed  and  taken  care  of." 

"Oh,  they'd  take  care  of  you." 

"The  waste  food  in  this  great  ship  would  feed  a 
hundred  hungry  wretches  like  me.  Does  my  pres- 
ence  keep  the  steamer  back  a  moment  of  time? 
No.  Well,  who  is  harmed  by  my  trying  to  better 
myself  in  a  new  world  ?  No  one.  I  am  begging  for 
a  crust  from  the  lavish  plenty,  all  because  I  am 
struggling  to  be  honest.  It  is  only  when  I  become  a 
thief  that  I  am  out  of  danger  of  starvation — caught 
or  free." 


1; 


.:! 


;  \ 


35© 


MY  STOWAWAY. 


{I 


llliliii 


Si 


"There,  there ;  now,  don't  speak  so  loud  or  you'll 
have  someone  here.  You  hang  round  and  I'll 
bring  you  some  provender.  What  would  you  like 
to  have?  Poached  eggs  on  toast,  roast  turkey^ 
or " 

The  wretch  sank  down  at  my  feet  as  I  said  this, 
and,  recognizing  the  cruelty  of  it,  I  hurried  down 
into  the  saloon  and  hunted  up  a  steward  who  had 
not  yet  turned  in. 

"Steward,"  I  said,  "can  you  get  me  a  few  sand- 
wiches or  anything  to  eat  at  this  late  hour?" 

"Yessir,  certainly,  sir;  beef  or 'am,  sir?" 

"Both,  and  a  cup  of  coffee,  please." 

"Well,  sir,  I'm  afraid  there's  no  coffee,  sir;  but  I 
could  make  you  a  pot  of  tea  in  a  moment,  sir." 

"All  right,  and  bring  them  to  my  room,  please?" 

"Yessir." 

In  a  very  short  time  there  was  that  faint  steward 
rap  at  the  stateroom  door,  and  a  most  appetizing 
tray-load  was  respectfully  placed  at  my  service. 

When  the  waiter  had  gone  I  hurried  up  the  com- 
panion way  with  much  the  air  of  a  man  who  is 
stealing  fowls,  and  I  found  my  stowaway  just  in 
the  position  I  had  left  him. 

"Now,  pitch  in,"  I  said.  "I'll  stand  guard  for- 
ward here,  and,  if  you  hear  me  cough,  strike  for 
cover,     I'll  explain  the  tray  matter  if  it's  found." 


~^4i'    iv»,u)a'ji?wppi|jyiMijui 


MY  STOWAWAY. 


251 


sand- 


but  1 


&>* 


com- 

rho   is 

1st  in 


>> 


He  simply  said,  "Thank  you,  sir,"  and  I  went 
forward.  When  I  came  back  the  tray  had  been 
swept  clean  and  the  teapot  emptied.  My  stow- 
away was  making  for  his  den  when  I  said,  "How 
about  to-morrow?" 

He  answered,  "This'll  do  me  for  a  couple  of 
days." 

"Nonsense.  I'll  have  a  square  meal  for  you  here 
in  the  corner  of  this  wheelhouse,  so  that  you  can 
get  at  it  without  trouble.  I'll  leave  it  about  this 
time  to-morrow  night." 

"You  won't  tell  anyone,  anyone  at  all,  sir?" 

"No.  At  least,  Til  think  over  the  matter,  and  if 
I  see  a  way  out  I'll  let  you  know." 

"God  bless  you,  sir." 

I  turned  the  incident  over  in  my  mind  a  good 
deal  that  night,  and  I  almost  made  a  resolution  to 
take  Cupples  into  my  confidence.  Roger  Cupplcs, 
a  lawyer  of  San  Francisco,  sat  next  me  at  table, 
and  with  the  freedom  of  wild  Westerners  we  were 
already  well  acquainted,  although  only  a  few  days 
out.  Then  I  thought  of  putting  a  supposititious 
case  to  the  captain — he  was  a  thorough  gentleman 
— and  if  he  spoke  generously  about  the  suppositi- 
tious case  I  would  spring  the  real  one  on  him.  The 
stowaway  had  impressed  me  by  his  language  as 
being  a  man  worth  doing  something  for. 


252 


Jtfy  STOWAWAY. 


r"' 


I'  ■; 


I 


Next  day  I  was  glad  to  see  that  it  was  rainy 
There  would  be  no  demand  for  ship  chairs  that  day. 
I  felt  that   real  sunshiny  weather  would  certainly 
unearth,  or  unchair,  my  stowaway.     I  met  Cupples 
on  deck,  and  we  walked  a  few  rounds  together. 

At  last,  Cupples,  who  had  been  telling  me  some 
stories  of  court  trial  in  San  Francisco,  said,  "Let's 
sit  down  and  wrap  up.  This  deck's  too  wet  to 
walk  on." 

"All  the  seats  are  damp,"  I  said. 

"I'll  get  out  my  steamer  chair.  Steward,"  he 
cried  to  the  deck  steward,  who  was  shoving  a  mop 
back  and  forth,  "get  me  my  chair.  There's  a  tag 
on  it,  'Berth  96.'  " 

"No,  no,"  I  cried  hastily;  "let's  go  into  the 
cabin.     It's  raining." 

"Only  a  drizzle.  Won't  hurt  you  at  sea,  you 
know." 

By  this  time  the  deck  steward  was  hauling  down 
chairs  trying  to  find  No.  96,  which  I  felt  sure  would 
be  near  the  bottom.  I  could  not  control  my  anx- 
iety as  the  steward  got  nearer  and  nearer  the  tar- 
paulin.   At  last  I  cried : 

"Steward,  never  mind  that  chair;  take  the  first 
two  that  come  handy." 

Cupples  looked  astonished,  and,  as  we  sat  down, 
I  said : 


MY  STOWAWAY. 


253 


Idown 

ould 

anx- 

tar- 

first 
lown, 


"I  have  something  to  tell  you,  and  I  trust  you 
will  say  nothing  about  it  to  anyone  else.  There's 
a  man  under  those  chairs." 

The  look  that  came  into  the  lawyer's  face  showed 
that  he  thought  me  demented ;  but,  when  I  told 
him  the  whole  story,  the  judicial  expression  came 
on,  and  he  said,  shaking  his  head : 

"That's  bad  business." 

"I  know  it." 

"Yes,  but  it's  worse  than  you  have  any  idea  of. 
I  presume  that  you  don't  know  what  section  4738 
of  the  Revised  Statutes  says?" 

"No;  I  don't." 

"Well,  it  is  to  the  effect  that  any  person  or  per- 
sons, who  willfully  or  with  malice  aforethought  or 
otherwise,  shall  aid,  abet,  succor,  or  cherish,  either 
directly  or  indirectly  or  by  implication,  any  person 
who  feloniously  or  secretly  conceals  himself  on  any 
vessel,  barge,  brig,  schooner,  bark,  clipper,  steam- 
ship or  other  craft  touching  at  or  coming  within  the 
jurisdiction  of  these  United  States,  the  said  per- 
son's purpose  being  the  defrauding  of  the  revenue 
of,  or  the  escaping  any  or  all  of  the  just  legal  dues 
exacted  by  such  vessel,  barge,  etc.,  the  person  so 
aiding  or  abetting,  shall  in  the  eye  of  the  law  be 
considered  as  accomplice  before,  during,  and  after 
the  illegal  act,  and  shall  in  such  case  be  subject  to 


11^ 


254 


MY  STOWAIVAY. 


n' 


the  penalties  accruing  thereunto,  to  wit — a  fine  of 
not  more  than  five  thousand  dollars,  or  imprison- 
ment of  not  more  than  two  years — or  both,  at  the 
option  of  the  judge  before  whom  the  party  so 
accused  is  convicted." 

"Great  Heavens!  is  that  really  so?" 

"Well,  it  isn't  word  for  word,  but  that  is  the  pur- 
port. Of  course,  if  I  had  my  books  here,  I — why, 
you've  doubtless  heard  of  the  case  of  the  Pacific 
Steamship  Company  versus  Cumberland.  I  was 
retained  on  behalf  of  the  company.  Now,  all  Cum- 
berland did  was  to  allow  the  man — he  was  sent  up 
for  two  years — to  carry  his  valise  on  board,  but  we 
proved  the  intent.  Like  a  fool,  he  boasted  of  it, 
but  the  steamer  brought  back  the  man,  and  Cum- 
berland got  off  with  four  thousand  dollars  and 
costs.  Never  got  out  of  that  scrape  less  than  ten 
thousand  dollars.  Then  again,  the  steamship  Peru- 
vian versus  McNish ;  that  is  even  more  to  the " 

"See  here,  Cupples.  Come  with  me  to-night  and 
see  the  man.  If  you  heard  him  talk  you  would  see 
the  inhumanity -" 

"Tush.  I'm  not  fool  enough  to  mix  up  in  such  a 
matter;  and  look  here,  you'll  have  to  work  it  pretty 
slick  if  you  get  yourself  out.  The  man  will  be 
caught  as  sure  as  fate ;  then  knowingly,  or  through 
fright,  he'll  incriminate  you." 


My  STOPVAWAY. 


255 


''What  would  you  do  if  you  were  in  my  place?" 
"My  dear  sir,  don't  put  it  that  way.     It's  a  reflec 
tion  on  both  my  judgment  and  my  legal  knowl- 
edge.     I  couldn't  be  in  such  a  scrape.     But,  as  a 
lawyer-minus    the    fee-I'll    tell  you    what   you 
should  do.     You  should   give   the   man  up  before 
witnesses— before  witnesses.     I'll   be   one   of  them 
myself.     Get  as  many  of  the  cabin  passengers  as 
you    like    out    here,  to-day,  and    let    the  officers 
search.     If  he  charges  you  with  what  the  law  terms 
support,  deny  it,  and  call  attention  to  the  fact  that 
you  have  given  information.     By  the  way,  I  would 
give  written  information  and  keep  a  copy." 

"I  gave  the  man  my  word  not  to  inform  on  him, 
and  so  I  can't  do  it  to-day,  but  I'll  tell  him  of  it 
to-night." 

"And  have  him  commit  suicide,  or  give  himself 
up  first  and  incriminate  you?  Nonsense.  Just 
release  yourself  from  your  promise.  That's  all. 
He'll  trust  you." 

"Yes,  poor  wretch,  I'm  afraid  he  will." 
About  ten  o'clock  that  night  I  resolved  to  make 
another  appeal  to  Roger  Cupples  to  at  least  stand 
oflf  and  hear  the  man  talk.  Cupples'  stateroom, 
No.  96,  was  in  the  forward  part  of  the  steamer, 
down  a  long  passage  and  off  a  short  side  passage! 
Mine  was  aft  the  cabin.     The  door  of  96  was  partly 


256 


[ffj 


i 


1 1 


iVK  STOWAWAY. 

inside    an   astonishing    sight   met   my 


open,   and 
gaze. 

There  stood  my  stowaway. 

He  was  evidently  admiring  himself  in  the  glass, 
and  with  a  brush  was  touching  up  his  face  with 
dark  pain  there  and  there.  When  he  put  on  a 
woe-begone  look  he  was  the  stowaway;  when  he 
chuckled  to  himself  he  was  Roger  Cupples,  Esq. 

The  moment  the  thing  dawned  on  me  I  quietly 
withdrew  and  went  up  the  forward  companion  way. 
Soon  Cupples  came  cautiously  up  and,  seeing  the 
way  clear,  scudded  along  in  the  darkness  and  hid  in 
the  aft  wheelhouse.  I  saw  the  whole  thing  now. 
It  was  a  scheme  to  get  me  to  make  a  fool  of  myself 
some  fine  day  before  the  rest  of  the  passengers  and 
have  a  standing  joke  on  me.  I  walked  forward. 
The  first  officer  was  on  duty. 

"I  have  reason  to  believe,"  I  said,  "that  there  is  a 
stowaway  in  the  aft  wheelhouse." 

Quicker  than  it  takes  me  to  tell  it  a  detachment 
of  sailors  were  sent  aft  under  the  guidance  of  the 
third  mate.  I  went  through  the  saloon  and  smok- 
ing room,  and  said  to  the  gentlemen  who  were  play- 
ing cards  and  reading : 

"There's  a  row  upstairs  of  some  kind." 

We  were  all  on  deck  before  the  crew  had  sur- 
rounded  the  wheelhouse.    There  was  a  rattle  of 


AfV  STOWAIVAY. 


m 


folded  steamer  chairs,  a  pounce  by  the  third  mate, 
and  out  came  the  unfortunate  Cupple,  dragged  by 
the  collar. 

"Hold  on;  let  go.     This  is  a  mistake." 

"You  can't  both  hold  on  and  let  go,"  said 
Stalker,  of  Indiana. 

"Come  out  o'  this,"  cried  the  mate,  jerking  him 
forward. 

With  a  wrench  the  stowaway  tore  himself  free 
and  made  a  dash  for  the  companion  way.  A  couple 
of  sailors  instantly  tripped  him  up. 

"Let  go  of  me;  I'm  a  cabin  passenger,"  cried 
Cupples. 

"Bless  me!"  I  cried  in  astonishment.  "This 
isn't  you,  Cupples?  Why,  I  acted  on  your  own 
advice  and  that  of  Revised  Statutes,  No.  whatever- 
they-were." 

"Well,  act  on  my  advice  again,"  cried  the  infuri- 
ated Cupples,  "and  go  to — the  hold." 

However,  he  was  better  in  humor  the  next  day, 
and  stood  treat  all  round.  We  found,  subse- 
quently, that  Cupples  was  a  New  York  actor,  and 
at  the  entertainment  given  for  the  benefit  of  the 
sailor's  orphans,  a  few  nights  after,  he  recited  a 
piece  in  costume  that  just  melted  the  ladies.  It 
was  voted  a  wonderfully  touching  performance,  and 
he  called  it  "The  Stowaway." 


Ill 


THE  PURSER'S  STORY. 


O  Mother-nature,  kind  in  touch  and  tone, 
Act  as  we  may,  thou  cleavest  to  thine  own. 

I  DON'T  know  that  I  should  tell  this  story. 

When  the  purser  related  it  to  me  I  know  it  was 
his  intention  to  write  it  out  for  a  magazine.     In  fact 
he  had  written  it,  and  I  understand  that  a  noted 
American  magazine  had  offered  to  pubh'sh  it,  but  I 
have  watched  that  magazine  for  over  three  years, 
and  I  have  not  yet  seen  the  purser's  story  in  it.     I 
am  sorry  that  I  did  not  write  the  story  at  the  time ; 
then  perhaps  I  should  have  caught  the  exquisite' 
peculiarities  of  the  purser  s  way  of  telhng  it.     I  find 
myself  gradually  forgetting  the  story  and  I  write  it 
now  in  case  I  shall  forget  it,  and  then  be  harassed 
all  through  after-life  by  the  remembrance   of  the 
forgetting. 

There  is  no  position  more  painful  and  torment- 
ing than  the  consciousness  of  having  had  something 
worth  the  telling,   which,   in  spite  of  all  mental 

as9 


26o 


THE  PURSER'S  STORY. 


effort,  just  eludes  the  memory.  It  hovers  nebu- 
lously beyond  the  outstretched  finger-ends  of  recol- 
lection, and,  like  the  fish  that  gets  off  the  hook, 
becomes  more  and  more  important  as  the  years 
fade. 

Perhaps,  when  you  read  this  story,  you  will  say 
there  is  nothing  in  it  after  all.  Well,  that  will  be 
my  fault,  then,  and  I  can  only  regret  I  did  not 
write  down  the  story  when  it  was  told  to  me,  for  as 
I  sat  in  the  purser's  room  that  day  it  seemed  to  me 
I  had  never  heard  anything  more  graphic. 

The  purser's  room  was  well  forward  on  the  Atlan- 
tic steamship.  From  one  of  the  little  red-curtained 
windows  you  could  look  down  to  where  the  steer- 
age passengers  were  gathered  on  the  deck.  When 
the  bow  of  the  great  vessel  plunged  down  into  the 
big  Atlantic  waves,  the  smother  of  foam  that  shot 
upward  would  be  borne  along  with  the  wind,  and 
spatter  like  rain  against  the  purser's  window. 
Something  about  this  intermittent  patter  on  the 
pane  reminded  the  purser  of  the  story,  and  so  he 
told  it  to  me. 

There  were  a  great  many  steerage  passengers 
coming  on  at  Queenstown,  he  said,  and  there  was 
quite  a  hurry  getting  them  aboard.  Two  officers 
stood  at  each  side  of  the  gangway  and  took  the 
tickets  as  the  people  crowded  forward.     They  gen- 


ul 


THE  PURSES-S  STORY.  ,6, 

erally  had  their  tickets  in  their  hands,  and  there  was 
usually  no  trouble.  I  stood  there  and  watched 
them  coming  aboard.  Suddenly  there  was  a  fuss 
and  a  jam. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked  the  officer. 
"Two  girls,  sir,  say  they  have  lost  their  tickets." 
I  took  the  girls  aside  and  the  stream  of  humanity 
poured  in.     One  was  about  fourteen  and  the  other 
perhaps,  eight  years  old.     The  little  one  had  a  firm' 
grip  of  the  elder's  hand  and  she  was  crying      The 
larger  girl  lor,ked  me  straight  in  the  eye  as  I  ques- 
tioned  her. 

"Where's  your  tickets?" 

"We  lost  thim,  sur." 

"Where?" 

"I  dunno,  sur." 

"Do  you  think  you  have  them  about  you  or  in 
your  luggage?" 

"We've  no  luggage,  sur." 

'Ts  this  your  sister?" 

"She  is,  sur." 

"Are  your  parents  aboard?" 

"They  are  not,  sur." 

"Are  you  all  alone?" 

"We  are,  sur." 

"You  can't  go  without  your  tickets." 

The  younger  one    began  to  cry  the   more,  and 


jiM, 


1  I  '*« 


h 

pr 


1:1 


■  t: 
> 

'  ■  i-, 

i'  (■ 

I'     1' 


'1  if 


i 


l^i 


362 


THE  PURSER'S  STORY. 


the  elder  answered,  "Mebbe  we  can  foind  thim, 
sur." 

They  were  bright-looking,  intelligent  children, 
and  the  larger  girl  gave  me  such  quick,  straightfor- 
ward answers,  and  it  seemed  so  impossible  that 
children  so  young  should  attempt  to  cross  the 
ocean  without  tickets,  that  I  concluded  to  let  them 
come,  and  resolved  to  get  at  the  truth  on  the  way 
over. 

Next  day  I  told  the  deck  steward  to  bring  the 
children  to  my  room. 

They  came  in  just  as  I  saw  them  the  day  before, 
the  elder  with  a  tight  grip  on  the  hand  of  the 
younger,  whose  eyes  I  never  caught  sight  of.  She 
kept  them  resolutely  on  the  floor,  while  the  other 
looked  straight  at  me  with  her  big  blue  eyes. 

"Well,  have  you  found  your  tickets?" 

"No,  sur." 

"What  is  your  name?* 

"Bridget,  sur." 

"Bridget  what?" 

"Bridget  Mulligan,  sur.' 

"Where  did  you  live?" 

"In  Kildormey,  sur." 

"Where  did  you  get  your  tickets?' 

"From  Mr.  O'Grady,  sur." 

Now,  I  knew  Kildormey  as  well  as  I  know  this 


&•> 


*> 


^•* 


THE  PURSER'S  STORY. 


20 


ship,  and  I  knew  O'Grady  was  our  agent  there,     i 
would  have  given  a  good  deal  at  that  moment  for  a 
few  words  with  him.     But  I  knew  of  no  Mulligans 
m  Kildormey,  although,  of  course,  there  might  be. 
I  was  born  myself  only  a  few  miles  from  the  place. 
"Now,"  thinks  I  to  myself,  "if  these  two  children  can 
baffle  a  purser  who  has  been  twenty  years  on  the 
Atlantic  when  they  say  they  came  from  his  own 
town  almost,  by  the  powers  they  deserve  their  pas- 
sage  over  the  ocean.     I  had  often  seen  grown  peo- 
ple try  to  cheat  their  way  across,  and  I  may  say 
none  of  them  succeeded  on  my  ships." 

"Where's  your  father  and  mother?" 

"Both  dead,  sur." 

"Who  was  your  father?" 

"He  was  a  pinshoner,  sur." 

"Where  did  he  draw  his  pension?" 
"I  dunno,  sur." 

"Where   did   you  get   the   money  to   buy   your 
tickets?" 

"The  neighbors,  sur,  and  Mr.  O'Grady  helped, 
sur." 

"What  neighbors?    Name  them." 

She  unhesitatingly  named  a  number,  many  of 
whom  I  knew;  and  as  that  had  frequently  been 
done  before,  I  saw  no  reason  to  doubt  the  girl's 
word. 


i 


t ' 


264 


THE  PURSERS  STORY. 


"Now,"  I  said,  "I  want  to  speak  with  your  sister. 
You  may  go." 

The  little  one  held  on  to  her  sister's  hand  and 
cried  bitterly. 

When  the  other  was  gone,  I  drew  the  child 
toward  me  and  questioned  her,  but  could  not  get  a 
word  in  reply. 

For  the  next  day  or  two  I  was  bothered  some- 
what by  a  big  Irishman  named  O'Donnell,  who  was 
a  firebrand  among  the  steerage  passengers.  He 
^e/^w/fj/ harangue  them  at  all  hours  on  the  wrongs 
of  Ireland,  and  the  desirability  of  blowing  England 
out  of  the  water ;  and  as  we  had  many  English  and 
German  passengers,  as  well  as  many  peaceable 
Irishmen,  who  complained  of  the  constant  ructions 
O'Donnell  was  kicking  up,  I  was  forced  to  ask  him 
to  keep  quiet.  He  became  very  abusive  one  day 
and  tried  to  strike  me.  I  had  him  locked  up  until 
he  came  to  his  senses. 

While  I  was  in  my  room,  after  this  little  excite- 
ment, Mrs.  O'Donnell  came  to  me  and  pleaded  for 
her  rascally  husband.  I  had  noticed  her  before. 
She  was  a  poor,  weak,  broken-hearted  woman  whom 
her  husband  made  a  slave  of,  and  I  have  no  doubt 
beat  her  when  he  had  the  chance.  She  was  evi- 
dently mortally  afraid  of  him,  and  a  look  from  him 
seemed  enough  to  take  the  life  out  of  her.     He  was 


\jM 


THE  PURSER'S  STORY. 


265 


and 


:cite- 
tdfor 
:fore. 
^hom 
loubt 
evi- 
him 
was 


a  worse  tyrant,  in  his  own  small  way,  than  England 
had  ever  been. 

"Well,  Mrs.  O'Donnell,"  I  said,  "I'll  let  your  hus- 
band go,  but  he  will  have  to  keep  a  civil  tongue  in 
his  head  and  keep  his  hands  off  people.  I've  seen 
men,  for  less,  put  in  irons  during  a  voyage  and 
handed  over  to  the  authorities  when  they  landed. 
And  now  I  want  you  to  do  me  a  favor.  There  are 
two  children  on  board  without  tickets.  I  don't 
believe  they  ever  had  tickets,  and  I  want  to  find 
out.  You're  a  kind-hearted  woman,  Mrs.  O'Don- 
nell, and  perhaps  the  children  will  answer  you." 

I  had  the  two  called  in,  and  they  came  hand  in 
hand  as  usual.  The  elder  looked  at  me  as  if  she 
couldn't  take  her  eyes  off  my  face. 

"Look  at  this  woman,"  I  said  to  her;  "she  wants 
to  speak  to  you.  Ask  her  some  questions  about 
herself,"  I  whispered  to  Mrs.  O'Donnell. 

"Acushla,"  said  Mrs.  O'Donnell,  with  infinite  ten- 
derness, taking  the  disengaged  hand  of  the  elder 
girl.     "Tell  me,  darlint,  where  yees  are  from." 

I  suppose  I  had  spoken  rather  harshly  to  them 
before,  although  I  had  not  intended  to  do  so,  but 
however  that  may  be,  at  the  first  words  of  kindness 
from  the  lips  of  their  countrywoman,  both  girls 
broke  down  and  cried  as  if  their  hearts  would  break. 
The  poor  woman  drew  them  toward  her,  and,  strok-. 


( 


i  i 


266 


THE  PURSER'S  STORY. 


\  ';.'    'ii   '   :    ■,' 


ing  the  fair  hair  of  the  elder  girl,  tried  to  comfort 
her  while  the  tears  streamed  down  her  own  cheeks. 
"Hush,  acushla,  hush,  darlints;  shure  the  gentle- 
min's  not  goin'  to  be  hard  wid  two  poor  childher 
going  to  a  strange  country." 

Of  course  it  would  never  do  to  admit  that  the 
company  could  carry  emigrants  free  through  sympa- 
thy, and  I  must  have  appeared  rather  hard-hearted 
when  I  told  Mrs.  O'Donnell  that  I  would  have  to 
take  them  back  with  me  to  Cork.  I  sent  the  chil- 
dren away,  and  then  arranged  with  Mrs.  O'Donnell 
to  see  after  them  during  the  voyage,  to  which  she 
agreed  if  her  husband  would  let  her. 

I  could  get  nothing  from  the  girl  except  that  she 
had  lost  her  ticket;  and  when  we  sighted  New 
York,  I  took  them  through  the  steerage  and  asked 
the  passengers  if  anyone  would  assume  charge  of 
the  children  and  pay  their  passage.  No  one  would 
do  so. 

"Then,"  I  said,  "these  children  will  go  back  with 
me  to  Cork ;  and  if  I  find  they  never  bought  tick- 
ets, they  will  have  to  go  to  jail." 

There  were  groans  and  hisses  at  that,  and  I  gave 
the  children  in  charge  of  the  cabin  stewardess,  with 
orders  to  see  that  they  did  not  leave  the  ship.  I 
was  at  last  convinced  that  they  had  no  friends 
among  the  steerage  passengers.     I  intended  to  take 


THE  PURSER'S  STORY. 


267 


them  ashore  myself  before  we  sailed ;  and  I  knew 
of  good  friends  in  New  York  who  would  see  to  the 
little  waifs,  although  I  did  not  propose  that  any  of 
the  emigrants  should  know  that  an  old  bachelor 
purser  was  fool  enough  to  pay  for  the  passage  of  a 
couple  of  unknown  Irish  children. 

We  landed  our  cabin  passengers,  and  the  tender 
came  alongside  to  take  the  steerage  passengers  to 
Castle  Garden.  I  got  the  stewardess  to  bring  out 
the  children,  and  the  two  stood  and  watched  every- 
one get  aboard  the  tender. 

Just  as  the  tender  moved  away,  there  was  a  wild 
shriek  among  the  crowded  passengers,  and  Mrs. 
O'Donnell  flung  her  ?rms  above  her  head  and  cried 
in  the  most  heart-rending  tone  I  ever  heard  : 
"Oh,  my  babies !  my  babies !" 
"Kape  quiet,  ye  divil,"  hissed  O'Donnell,  grasp- 
ing  her  by  the  arm.  The  terrible  ten  days'  strain 
had  been  broken  at  last,  and  the  poor  woman  sank 
in  a  heap  at  his  feet. 

"Bring  back  that  boat,"  I  shouted,  and  the  tender 
came  back. 

"Come  aboard  here,  O'Donnell." 
"I'll  not!"  he  yelled,  shaking  his  fist  at  me. 
"Bring  that  man  aboard." 

They  soon  brought  him  back,  and  I  gave  his  wife 
over  to  the  care  of  the  stewardess.     She  speedily 


i 


Pi 


268 


THE  PURSERS  STORY. 


rallied,  and  hugged  and  kissed  her  children  as  if  she 
would  never  part  with  them. 

"So,  O'Donnell,  these  are  your  children?" 

"Yis,  they  are;  an*  I'd  have  ye  know  Fm  in  a 
frae  country,  bedad,  and  I  dare  ye  to  lay  a  finger 
on  me." 

"Don't  dare  too  much,"  I  said,  "or  I'll  show  you 
what  can  be  done  in  a  free  country.  Now,  if  I  let 
the  children  go,  will  you  send  their  passage  money 
to  the  company  when  you  get  it?" 

"I  will,"  he  answered,  although  I  knew  he  lied. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "for  Mrs.  O'Donnell's  sake,  I'll  let 
them  go ;  and  I  must  congratulate  any  free  country 
that  gets  a  citizen  like  you." 

Of  course  I  never  heard  from  O'Donnell  again. 


MISS  McMillan. 


Come  hop,  come  skip,  fair  children  all. 
Old  Father  Time  is  in  the  hall. 
He'll  take  you  on  his  knee,  and  stroke 
Your  golden  hair  to  silver  bright, 
Your  rosy  cheeks  to  wrinkles  white. 

In  the  saloon  of  the  fine  transatlantic  h'ner,  the 
Climatus,  two  long  tables  extend  from  the  piano  at 
one  end  to  the  bookcase  at  the  other  end  of  the 
ample  dining  room. 

On  each  side  of  this  main  saloon  are  four  small 

tables  intended  to  accommodate  six  or  seven  per- 

sons.    At  one  of  these  tables  sat  a  pleasant  party 

of  four  ladies  and  three  gentlemen.     Three  ladies 

were  from  Detroit,  and  one  from  Kent,  in  England. 

At  the  head  of  the  table  sat  Mr.  Blair,  the  frost  of 

many  American  winters  in  his  hair  and  beard,  while 

the  lines  of  care  in   his   rugged,  cheerful   Scottish 

face  told  of  a  life  of  business  crowned  with  gener- 

ous  success. 

Mr.  Waters,  a  younger  merchant,  had  all  the  alert 

869 


270 


MISS  McMillan. 


y 


■^1;-' 


■!  ! 


'•(^     1 


W' 

I 

W 

1;  .   ^ 

S^ 

.^  ■      ,     1"  ., 

m 

*■■ 

It' 

f  '     . '  i     / 

1' 

vivacity  of  the  pushing  American.  He  had  the  dis- 
tinguished honor  of  sitting  opposite  me  at  the  small 
table. 

Blair  and  Waters  occupied  the  same  room,  No. 
27.  The  one  had  crossed  the  Atlantic  more  than 
fifty  times,  the  other  nearly  thirty.  Those  figures 
show  the  relative  proportion  of  their  business  expe- 
rience. 

The  presence  of  Mr.  Blair  gave  to  our  table  a  sort 
of  patriarchal  dignity  that  we  all  appreciated.  If 
a  louder  burst  of  laughter  than  usual  came  from 
where  we  sat  and  the  other  passengers  looked  in- 
quiringly our  way,  the  sedate  and  self-possessed  face 
of  Mr.  Blair  kept  us  in  countenance,  and  we,  who 
had  given  way  to  undue  levity,  felt  ourselves  en- 
shrouded by  an  atmosphere  of  genial  seriousness. 
This  prevented  our  table  from  getting  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  funny  or  frivolous. 

Some  remark  that  Blair  made  brought  forth  the 
following  extraordinary  statement  from  Waters, 
who  told  it  with  the  air  of  a  man  exposing  the  pre- 
tensions of  a  whited  sepulcher. 

"Now,  before  this  voyage  goes  any  further,"  he 
began,  "I  have  a  serious  duty  to  perform  which  I 
can  shirk  no  longer,  unpleasant  though  it  be.  Mr. 
Blair  and  myself  occupy  the  same  stateroom.  Into 
that  stateroom  has  been  sent  a  most  lovely  basket 


MISS  MCMILLAN: 


271 


of  flowers.  It  is  not  an  ordinary  basket  of  flowers, 
I  assure  you,  ladies.  There  is  a  beautiful  floral 
arch  over  a  bed  of  color,  and  I  believe  there  is 
some  tender  sentiment  connected  with  the  display; 
*Bon  Voyage,*  *Auf  Wiedersehen,'  or  some  such 
motto  marked  out  in  red  buds.  Now  those  flowers 
are  not  for  me.  I  think,  therefore,  that  Mr.  Blair 
owes  it  to  this  company,  which  has  so  unanimously 
placed  him  at  the  head  of  the  table,  to  explain  how 
it  comes  that  an  elderly  gentleman  gets  such  a 
handsome  floral  tribute  sent  him  from  some  un- 
known person  in  New  York." 

We  all  looked  at  Mr.  Blair,  who  gazed  with  im- 
perturbability at  Waters. 

"If  you  had  all  crossed  with  Waters  as  often  as  I 
have  you  would  know  that  he  is  subject  to  attacks 
like  that.  He  means  well,  but  occasionally  he 
gives  way  in  the  deplorable  manner  you  have  just 
witnessed.  Now  all  there  is  of  it  consists  in  this— a 
basket  of  flowers  has  been  sent  (no  doubt  by  mis- 
take) to  our  stateroom.  There  is  nothing  but  a 
card  on  it  which  says  'Room  27.*  Steward,"  he 
cried,  "would  you  go  to  room  27,  bring  that  basket 
of  flowers,  and  set  it  on  this  table.  We  may  as 
well  all  have  the  benefit  of  them." 

The  steward  soon  returned  with  a  large  and 
lovely  basket  of  flowers,  which  he  set  on  the  table, 


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23  WI$T  MAIN  STRUT 

VVIUTIII,N.Y.  USM 

(716)t72-4S03 


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272 


MISS  McMillan. 


h 
III 


1.^ 


'I  ■ 
'J. 


I '4 1". . 


I 


shoving  the  caster  and  other  things  aside  to  make 
room  for  it. 

We  all  admired  it  very  much,  and  the  handsome 
young  lady  on  my  left  asked  Mr.  Blair's  permission 
to  take  one  of  the  roses  for  her  own. 

"Now,  mind  you,"  said  Blair,  "I  cannot  grant  a 
flower  from  the  basket,  for  you  see  it  is  as  much  the 
property  of  Waters  as  of  myself,  for  all  of  his  virtu- 
ous indignation.  It  was  sent  to  the  room,  and  he  is 
one  of  the  occupants.  The  flowers  have  evidently 
been  misdirected." 

The  lady  referred  to  took  it  upon  herself  to  pur- 
loin the  flower  she  wanted.  As  she  did  so  a  card 
came  in  view  with  the  words  written  in  a  masculine 

hand : 

To  Miss  McMillan, 

With  the  loving  regards  of 

Edwin  J . 


"Miss  McMillan!"  cried  the  lady;  "I  wonder  if 
she  is  on  board?     I'd  give  anything  to  know." 

"We'll  have  a  glance  at  the  passenger  list,"  said 
Waters. 

Down  among  the  M's  on  the  long  list  of  cabin 
passengers  appeared  the  name  "Miss  McMillan." 

"Now,"  said  I,  "it  seems  to  me  that  the  duty  de- 
volves on  both  Blair  and  Waters  to  spare  no  pains 


n  i 


t). 


M/ss  McMillan. 


a73 


in  delicately  returning  those  flowers  to  their  proper 
owner.  /  think  that  both  have  been  very  remiss 
in  not  doing  so  long  ago.  They  should  apologize 
publicly  to  the  young  lady  for  having  deprived  her 
of  the  offering  for  a  day  and  a  half,  and  then  I 
think  they  owe  an  apology  to  this  table  for  the 
mere  pretense  that  any  sane  person  in  New  York  or 
elsewhere  would  go  to  the  trouble  of  sending  either 
of  them  a  single  flower." 

"There  will  be  no  apology  from  me,"  said 
Waters.  "If  I  do  not  receive  the  thanks  of  Miss 
McMillan  it  will  be  because  good  deeds  are  rarely 
recognized  in  this  world.  I  think  it  must  be  evi- 
dent,  even  to  the  limited  intelligence  of  my  journal- 
istic  friend  across  the  table,  that  Mr.  Blair  intended 
to  keep  those  flowers  in  his  stateroom,  and-of 
course  I  make  no  direct  charges-the  concealment 
of  that  card  certainly  looks  bad.  It  may  have  been 
concealed  by  the  sender  of  the  flowers,  but  to  me  it 
looks  bad." 

"Of  course,"  said  Blair  dryly,  "to  you  it  looks 
bad.     To  the  pure,  etc." 

"Now,"  said  the  sentimental  lady  on  my  left, 
"while  you  gentlemen  are  wasting  the  time  in  use' 
less  talk  the  lady  is  without  her  roses.  There  is 
one  thing  that  you  all  seem  to  miss.     It  is  not  the 


274 


MISS  MCMILLAN. 


i    '.it 


mere  value  of  the  bouquet.  There  is  a  subtle  per- 
fume about  an  offering  like  this  more  delicate  than 
that  which  Nature  gave  the  flowers " 

"Hear,  hear,"  broke  in  Waters. 

"I  told  you,"  said  Blair  aside,  "the  kind  of  fellow 
Waters  is.  He  thinks  nothing  of  interrupting  a 
lady." 

"Order,  both  of  you!"  I  cried,  rapping  on  the 
table;  "the  lady  from  England  has  the  floor." 

"What  I  was  going  to  say " 

"When  Waters  interrupted  you." 

"When  Mr.  Waters  interrupted  me  I  was  going 
to  say  that  there  seems  to  me  a  romantic  tinge  to 
this  incident  that  you  old  married  men  cannot  be 
expected  to  appreciate." 

I  looked  with  surprise  at  Waters,  while  he  sank 
back  in  his  seat  with  the  resigned  air  of  a  man  in 
the  hands  of  his  enemies.  We  had  both  been  care- 
fully concealing  the  fact  that  we  were  married  men, 
and  the  blunt  announcement  of  the  lady  was  a  pain- 
ful shock.  Waters  gave  a  side  nod  at  Blair,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  He's  given  it  away."  I  looked 
reproachfully  at  my  old  friend  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  but  he  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in  what  our 
sentimental  lady  was  saying. 

"It  is  this,"  she  continued.  "Here  is  a  young 
lady.     Her  lover  sends  her  a  basket.    There  may 


it 


MISS  McMlLLAxV. 


-iS 


be  some  hidden  meaning  that  she  alone  will  under- 
stand in  the  very  flowers  chosen,  or  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  them.  The  flowers,  let  us  suppose,  never 
reach  their  destination.  The  message  is  unspoken, 
or,  rather,  spoken,  but  unheard.  The  young  lady 
grieves  at  the  apparent  neglect,  and  then,  in  her 
pride,  resents  it.  She  does  not  write,  and  he  knows 
not  why.  The  mistake  may  be  discovered  too  late, 
and  all  because  a  basket  of  flowers  has  been 
missent." 

"Now,  Blair,"  said  Waters,  **if  anything  can 
nake  you  do  the  square  thing  surely  that  appeal 
will." 

"I  shall  not  so  far  forget  what  is  due  to  myself 
and  to  the  dignity  of  this  table  as  to  reply  to  our 
erratic  friend.  Here  is  what  I  propose  to  do — first 
catch  our  hare.  Steward,  can  you  find  out  for  me 
at  what  table  and  at  what  seat  Miss  McMillan  is?" 

While  the  steward  was  gone  on  his  errand  Mr. 
Blair  proceeded. 

"I  will  become  acquainted  with  her.  McMillan 
is  a  good  Scotch  name  and  Blair  is  another.  On 
that,  as  a  basis,  I  think  we  can  speedily  form  an 
acquaintance.  I  shall  then  in  a  casual  manner  ask 
her  if  she  knows  a  young  man  by  the  name  of  Ed- 
win J.,  and  I  shall  tell  you  what  effect  the  mention 
of  the  name  has  on  her." 


276 


MISS  MCMILLAN, 


It'   .t  'i 


I'sQ 


"Now,  as  part  owner  in  the  flowers  up  to  date,  I 
protest  against  that.  I  insist  that  Miss  McMillan 
be  brought  to  this  table,  and  that  we  all  hear  ex- 
actly what  is  said  to  her,"  put  in  Mr.  Waters. 

Nevertheless  we  agreed  that  Mr.  Blair's  proposal 
was  a  good  one  and  the  majority  sanctioned  it. 

Meanwhile  our  sentimental  lady  had  been  looking 
among  the  crowd  for  the  unconscious  Miss  McMil- 
lan. 

"I  think  I  have  found  her,"  she  whispered  to  me. 
"Do  you  see  that  handsome  girl  at  the  .captain's 
table?     Really  the  handsomest  girl  on  board." 

"I  thought  that  distinction  rested  with  our  own 
table." 

"Now,  please  pay  attention.  Do  you  see  how 
pensive  she  is,  with  her  cheek  resting  on  her  hand  ? 
I  am  sure  she  is  thinking  of  Edwin." 

"I  wouldn't  bet  on  that,"  I  replied.  "There  is 
considerable  motion  just  now,  and  indications  of  a 
storm.     The  pensiveness  may  have  other  causes." 

Here  the  steward  returned  and  reported  that 
Miss  McMillan  had  not  yet  appeared  at  table,  but 
had  her  meals  taken  to  her  room  by  the  stewardess. 

Blair  called  to  the  good-natured,  portly  steward- 
ess of  the  ClimatuSy  who  at  that  moment  was  pass- 
ing through  the  saloon. 

"Is  Miss  McMillan  ill?"  he  asked. 


MISS  MCMILLAN. 


«77 


that 
le,  but 
irdess. 
:ward- 

pass- 


"No,  not  ill,"  replied  Mrs.  Kay;  "but  she  seems 
very  much  depressed  at  leaving  home,  and  she  has 
not  left  her  room  since  we  started." 

"There!"  said  our  sentimental  lady  triumphantly. 

"I  would  like  very  much  to  see  her,"  said  Mr. 
Blair ;  "  I  have  some  good  news  for  her." 

"I  will  ask  her  to  come  out.  It  will  do  her 
good,"  said  the  stewardess,  as  she  went  away. 

In  a  few  moments  she  appeared,  and,  following 
her,  came  an  old  woman  with  white  hair,  and  her 
eyes  concealed  by  a  pair  of  spectacles. 

"Miss  McMillan,"  said  the  stewardess,  "this  is 
Mr.  Blair,  who  wanted  to  speak  to  you." 

Although  Mr.  Blair  was,  as  we  all  were,  aston- 
ished to  see  our  mythical  young  lady  changed  into 
a  real  old  woman,  he  did  not  lose  his  equanimity, 
nor  did  his  kindly  face  show  any  surprise,  but  he 
evidently  forgot  the  part  he  had  intended  to 
play. 

"You  will  pardon  me  for  troubling  you.  Miss 
McMillan,"  he  said,  "but  this  basket  of  flowers  was 
evidently  intended  for  you,  and  was  sent  to  my 
room  by  mistake." 

Miss  McMillan  did  not  look  at  the  flowers,  but 
gazed  long  at  the  card  with  the  writing  on  it,  and 
as  she  did  so  one  tear  and  then  another  stole  down 
the  wrinkled  face  from  behind  the  glasses. 


278 


MISS  MCMILLAN. 


•I' 


t 

^M 


U 


: 


"There  is  no  mistake,  is  there?"  asked  Mr.  Blair. 
"You  know  the  writer?" 

"There  is  no  mistake — no  mistake,"  replied  Miss 
McMillan  in  a  low  voice,  "he  is  a  very  dear  and 
kind  friend."  Then,  as  if  unable  to  trust  herself 
further,  she  took  the  flowers  and  hurriedly  said, 
"Thank  you,"  and  left  us. 

"There,"  I  said  to  the  lady  on  my  left,  "your 
romance  turns  out  to  be  nothing  after  all." 

"No,  sir,"  she  cried  with  emphasis;  "the  romance 
is  there,  and  very  much  more  of  a  romance  than 
if  Miss  McMillan  was  a  young  and  silly  girl  of 
twenty." 

Perhaps  she  was  right. 


ii: 


I, 
V 


■    I 


THE  END. 


r.  Blair. 

d  Miss 
ar  and 
herself 
y  said, 


« 


your 


•mance 
e  than 
girl  of 


